


The Curse of the Copa

by lavidabrillante



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Complete, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Love, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Past Relationship(s), Real Madrid CF, Romance, Sexual Content, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 45,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavidabrillante/pseuds/lavidabrillante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leah Hamilton-Fox has what she believes is nearly a perfect life: dating superstar Cristiano Ronaldo and a dream job in television in Madrid. But all this seems to change after one phone call following the big Copa del Rey game and when she runs into an old friend unexpectedly.</p><p>**Originally posted on my Tumblr. One of three related stories**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            “ _Mi corazón_ , where are you?”

            “Where do you think?” I replied, hearing him drop his bag by the door of the suite—the sound of the cleats hitting the marble.

            “Are you sleeping, _mi corazón_?”

            “No, why?” I said, getting up from the bed and looking through the gap between the door and its frame, seeing his silhouette in the shadows.

            “Nothing–I only want to talk to you. It’s fine. .”

            I smiled at the sound of his Portuguese inflected Spanish.

            “We won the copa,” he said, his eyes connecting with mine.

            “I know, ”

            “OK,” he came over and wrapped his arms around me. I could smell his favorite Armani cologne as I snuggled against his jersey.

            “ _Mi corazón_ , really, what did you think?”

            “About what?” I asked, looking into his dark brown eyes. The questions were killing me.

            “The game,” he held my hips.

            “ _Pues_ , you were great, but your celebration dance was awful. And seeing you and the copa, your smile was so perfect, like always.“

            “Always? The parade afterwards was fun too, but I wish that you were there with me.”

            “But I’m with you now, _relajate_ ,” I said, telling him to relax.

            “ _Si, si_ ,” he said followed by taking his jersey off, slowly pulling the shiny white iconic shirt over his head. He quickly tossed it to the floor. I smiled admiring his torso—this was the product of a rigorous work out schedule. Hours and hours of training at the stadium, home, Madiera, vacations—everywhere. The sit-ups, crunches, lifting, runs, push-ups; I couldn’t keep up with him. Every now and then he would humor me on our runs together, saying how he couldn’t keep up with me. I was too quick for him. This was one of the best football players in the world, and for some reason I still couldn’t understand, he fell in love with me.

            “What’s bothering you? You’re not yourself.” I asked him, observing how tense he was. I knew it was late, and he had to be tired after playing such a hard game and celebrating his team’s victory in their celebratory parade through the streets of Valencia. He hadn’t even changed into his signature polo and jeans. It was unusual for him to return in his kit.

            “Winning the Copa is great, but I’m worried about the Champions League. We have to play them again, and two times if we want to play in the final game–but you’re right, I should relax now.“

            I kissed him lightly, “We’re here, _solo nosotros_. You don’t have work tomorrow, so, get ready for bed, ok? And breathe,por favor.”

            “I can only be ready if you give me a real kiss this time,” he said smiling widely, speaking in Portuguese.

            “Only if you ask me in English,” I said. I loved to hear him speak English to me. He had learned so much during his time playing in Manchester.

            “I can only relax if you give me a real kiss this time,” he said again, trying to mock my accent.

            “Why should I give you one?“

            “Because you love me, and I love you coraçao.” Language number three of the night.

            “Portuguese too? I guess I can give you a real one this time.” I was a sucker for foreign languages.

            I kissed him again, closing my eyes as he held me closer. His skin felt warm against mine. He was out in the hot Valencian night as I sat on the bed, anxiously waiting for him to return as I read my Kindle. It was his time to celebrate with his guys after a hard played match and I knew he would be back for me. Although it was nearly 4:30 in the morning, this was Spain and the night was young. I quickly adapted to this schedule, the sleeping during the day and living at night. Since we didn’t see each other much, I wanted to cherish and keep every moment we spent together. Luckily, the regular season was quickly coming to an end, and I would have more time with him. We would spend many days together in Madrid as I worked and he trained without the hectic schedule of away games and television appearances. It would just be us, the way it was supposed to be.

            “ _Hace calor_ ,” he said letting me go, “I’m going to open one of the windows.”

            “It’s because you’re wearing too many clothes.” I liked where this was heading.

            He looked down at his shorts and slipped his thumbs in the sides by his hips. “ _Mucha ropa_?”

            “ _Quitate_ ,” I said, watching him slide them down his perfectly sculpted and tanned legs. He was a rich caramel color, even deeper and browner as the spring had quickly turned into summer. Here he was, all of him, standing and smiling in the middle of our suite. It wasn’t the first time I had seen him this way, but each and every time it was like the first. I always thought I was dreaming, until he wrapped his arms around me.

            “Is this better?” he asked, his body still feeling warm as he slipped the straps from my dress from my shoulders, “What do you want?”

            “Whatever you do,” I said, wanting him to hurry up already, "Why are you feeling so hot anyway? It’s quite cool in here.”

            “Hmmm, it’s because I’m with you.“

            He sat me on the bed, continuing to remove my dress from my body. "I guess you make me feel that way too.”

            “Really?” he asked before kissing me, “I love you.”

            “What do you want to do tonight?” I asked before kissing him back.

            “Whatever you want. Besides it’s really the morning,” he was getting excited. I could tell by the glow in his eyes. His kisses now moved from just my lips to down my neck and shoulders. His hands moved down my body, the soft touches between the kisses and whispers in Spanish and Portuguese. Before I knew it we were tangled together, his body pressed against mine. Usually at this time in the morning, I would have refused Cristiano’s advances, but I let him do what he wanted. He was a pro. I tried to stay quiet, but I couldn’t help but be noisy as he worked on me. He was too perfect, I decided.

           “One more kiss?” He asked, now sitting beside me, his hair now much flatter than when he came to the room, my body entangled in the gold sheets from the mess that was now the bed.

            “Only for you,” I said sitting up and kissing him lightly. He wrapped his arms around me, still feeling warm and to me, quite cuddly. I wanted this to be us every night, and it would be soon. How was it only April? One month left, and he would be mine for a few weeks—unless I had to travel, but I didn’t want to think about it that way.

            “Ready for bed now?” he said before kissing my cheek. He was being generous today.

            I nodded my head, excited to not only sleep, but to have my _futbolista_ hold me. As he quickly fell asleep, I laid under the covers, wide-eyed. I took in every part of him, from the way I could feel him breathing, his touch, the way he sometimes whispered in his sleep. This ritual of mine happened each time we were together, because our togetherness was often broken by periods of being apart. I finally closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you want to do on my day off?”

            Although I knew he was absolutely capable and nearly fluent in English, we often spoke to each other in Spanish, the language we mutually felt quite comfortable with. He usually spoke English when he really wanted something, or wanted to impress me. Today I couldn’t tell. He was sitting on the bed, half naked, drinking an Aquarius.

            “I think I know what you want me to do, but I want to go to the beach.” I said going through my weekend bag on the floor.

            “The beach first, me next, and then dinner?” He quickly glossed over the middle part of the sentence, forgetting this was my native language.

            “You’re so funny,” I said, slipping the new electric blue sundress he had bought me in Barcelona. It was perfect for a hot day at the beach, and I knew I was going to get my way as long as he got his. “Where can we go that’s pap free?”

            “You mean you don’t want to be on the cover of In Touch this week?” he said sarcastically.

            “No, not yet. Doesn’t it feel like we owe them a couple of pictures?” I said, putting on my silver earrings.

            “Isn’t it bad enough they have pictures from when we were on vacation over Christmas?”

            “You’d think that islands in the south Pacific would be far away enough from cameras. You know what?”

            “ _Qué_?”

            “Today, I don’t even care. I won’t see you for a week. Lets just go like normal people. We’ll ignore that they’re taking our pictures.”

            “ _Corazón_ , we aren’t normal people. Let me call Antonio to see if he can get us a private part of the beach.”

            “Lets go to _la playa_ ,” I said sitting next to him as he scrolled through his Blackberry, “And later, whatever you want!.”

            I kissed his cheek which caused him to stop looking at his phone and turn to me. He smiled a boyish grin, one of the reasons why it was so easy to fall in love with him. “I’m working,” he said before kissing me back and pressing the talk button.

            He began to speak in Portuguese on the phone as I got behind him and put my arms around his body. His hair was still a little wet from his post work out shower. It was his day off, and he still went for a morning run and did his daily crunches. Although I was taking Portuguese classes, I couldn’t decipher what he was saying. It was too quick and filled with slang.

            “ _Obrigado_ ,” he said dryly into the phone, pressing the red end button. He dropped it on the bed and then took my hands that were situated on his shoulders.

            “Guess what?” He said exhaling heavily. I sensed that this wasn’t good from his tone during the entire phone conversation.

            “It’s good and bad, isn’t it?” I said.

            “Both.” He squeezed my fingers.

            My eyes grew wide. I pictured us walking hand in hand, me in my new bikini and wide brimmed hat, and him in his little beach shorts cuddling and sharing a guarana. But there was a catch. “Good first,” I said, feeling how sweaty his hands had become.

             “Ok. So, the good is that there’s a villa waiting for us on the beach where no one can find us. No _fotos, nada_.”

            “And the bad?”

            “First I have a press conference. They want me to talk about the Copa and the rest of the season. It won’t take long, I promise, _corazón_. Después, only us.”

            “Can I go with you?”

            “It’s your day off too. _Pues_ , if you want to you can. But, no interviews, no writing, nothing. I’m sorry I still have to go to work..”

            “Conference and later the beach, no?”

            “Si, si, si, I promise,” he turned around to kiss me, “And later, the beach, you, and then a nice dinner.”

            “I want a lot of you..”

            “I want a lot of you too,” he said, mocking my American accent.

            “Don’t you need to get ready,” I said, trying my best in a Portuguese one. I imagined how ridiculous I must have sounded to him.

            “ _Ahora_?” He looked at his watch, “In twenty minutes. We have a little bit of time now.”

            He pushed me over by surprise and began to laugh, “I have you now,” he said followed by kissing my nose.

            “ _Venga_ , you’re messing up my dress!” I said putting my hands on his chest.

            “You’re mine now, _por 20 minutos_.” His hand moved up my leg. I knew he wanted something before we left. He began to pull on my new Agent Provocateur’s I picked up the last weekend working in London. “It will be quick.”

            “Only if you can guess what color they are.”

            “Hmm. Pink and black—I already looked,” he smiled, “ _Mucha ropa_.” That was one of his favorite lines. I could be in a bikini and have on too many clothes for him.

            I wriggled out of my dress and he kissed above my navel. “You’re so sweet,” he said, “How many kisses can I give you in twenty minutes?”

            He began to count in Portuguese, “Um, dois, tres, quarto, cinco, seis, sete, oit—”

            “Wait,” I could hear my phone buzz from my purse at the top of the bed. Who was looking for me on my day off? I pulled out my Blackberry to see my agent’s face flash across the screen. “Eva,” I began, rolling my eyes, “Is it important? You promised no phone calls today.”

            “He’s with you,” she said on the other side as I looked at him who mouthed ‘Who is it?’

            ‘Eva,’ I mouthed back and put my finger over my mouth to let him know not to move nor speak out loud.

            “No, he’s not here,” I lied, “What’s going on?”

            “Are you sitting down?”

            “Kind of. How come?”

            “There’s a woman that just sold her story to the Daily Mail that she has your boy’s baby. If the Mail prints it, tomorrow it’s the Sun and the Spanish and Portuguese press next. After that, who knows, maybe America. It’s going to be huge, whether true or not, and I wanted to give you a heads up. The Mail called me to talk to you or for some type of statement. I haven’t called back yet.”

            “Wait what? Slow down.”

            “He’s nearly three. It’s a little boy. He is super adorable, but do you know anything about this at all?”

            We had been together for three years.

            “Where is she from? No—I don’t know anything. This is all coming out of nowhere.”

            “The UK. She claims that she slept with him after a Champions League game. She was a student at the time and and had to hold back her studies to have the baby.”

“Did you see any pictures?”

            “The Mail won’t send me anything until they get something from our side.”

            “I don’t understand why she isn’t trying to contact him instead of taking this route.”

            “I called his people and they haven’t been contacted yet, so I don’t think that he knows.”

            “It was before we were together. He’s different now,” I looked at him across the room, buttoning up a light blue oxford to match the new tie I brought him from London.

            “I know he’s great but now other women are going to try to pull the same shit. I really hope it’s not his, but we’re going to have to get some type of testing done before this story goes viral. When does he go back to work?”

            “Tomorrow. We’ll be in Madrid tomorrow.”

            “Ok, I’m going to meet you at Barajas tomorrow. You’re going to walk off the plane and be attacked. I’m so sorry.”

            “He just got here,” He looked at me as he put on his suit jacket, “Do you want to talk to him or want me to tell him.”

            Before I could decide which was the best of two evils, his phone began to ring. I saw the face of his agent, Antonio, on the screen. “His agent is calling right now,” I said to Eva, “It’s for you,” I said to him as he quickly came to the bed, “Antonio.”

            “What happened? I can tell that something’s wrong,” He picked up the phone, “Hey. What’s wrong?”

            I continued to speak to Eva as he spoke in Portuguese. A couple minutes into the conversation he sat down next to me and began to clench his free hand tightly. I placed my right hand on his thigh. I guessed what Antonio was telling him. “Eva,” I whispered, “Text me updates, ok? I think he needs me.”

            As soon as I pressed end, I heard him say under his breath, “I cannot believe this.” 

            His fist became tighter as his agent continued to talk. Every now and then he said yes and no in Portuguese, often closing his eyes. “Ciao,” he quickly said, throwing the phone to the bed.

            He placed his head in his hands and began to exhale heavily. “ _Qué_?” I said, rubbing his leg, I could feel his muscle through the slacks.

            “When everything seemed so perfect,” he said, his voice beginning to tremble, “What did Eva tell you?”

            “Bad news.”

            “Nothing can be worse than what I just heard.”

            “My news involved you.”

            “Mi corazón, what was it?”

            “This British girl says that she had your baby. It’s a boy and he’s almost three. She said she slept with you a few seasons ago in the UK and sold the story to the Daily Mail. They won’t give us more information until we talk.”

            I knew he sometimes had a temper, and usually let his frustration go on the futbol pitch. I hoped that this was what Antonio had just told him, but I was afraid of how he would react.

            “I can’t believe it,” he said softly, “ _La puta madre!_ ”

            His voice grew as he continued to repeat this phrase, alternating between Portuguese and Spanish. “I’m sorry that they’re putting you in this.”

            “But we’re together now.”

            “This was before we were together. I was careless then, but why now?”

            “Can you cancel your press conference?”

            “No. I don’t think so.”

            “Look, Eva said nothing’s printed yet, so we have time today to get everything ready to block anything from getting out in the press. But I have a question.”

            “Yes?”

            “Could you have a child from a British girl who’s about that age?”

            “Yes, probably I was careless, but I’m not sure. Why is she doing this now?” he slammed his first on the bed, the impact making his phone hit the ground.

            “RELAX!” I screamed, seeing him react so violently. I hadn’t seen this side of him for awhile, and it was quite scary.

            “Just breathe,” I held him closely, “ _Calmate, vale_?”

            “I wonder if this is what the conference is about,” he said, still breathing heavily. I felt his chest rapidly rise and fall between each word.

            “Who knows. It’s probably about last night. Calm down, ok?”

            “But why are they threatening you?”

            “They just want a good story. I understand exactly what they’re doing.”

            “How?”

            “They’re hoping that the dates line up that you got her pregnant while we started dating. Of course they want one of the best futbolistas to fail. Pues, we weren’t even dating until the fall.”

            “Leah, I love you, I’m sorry, I knew nothing about this—”

            “Don’t think about it. We are still going to the beach. They can come to us. It’s our day together. You promised, _un poquita de playa, después follamos, y comemos, recuerdas? Si?_ We’ll be okay,” I kissed his cheek, telling him we would go to the beach, have fun together, and have a nice dinner just as planned. It would all be fine. “ _Calmate_. We don’t want them writing you have anger problems too.”

            “Did you say follamos?” He said, putting a quick smile on his face. I didn’t like using such vulgar language, but I knew he’d catch on to the term I quickly threw into my sentence.

            “I think that I did.“

            “I just want this to go away.”

            “One thing at a time.”

            “I’m so sorry,” he picked his phone up from the floor, “I’m going to take care of this nightmare right away.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

          Antonio, Cristiano’s agent, was anxiously tapping the back of his iPhone when we arrived at the stadium. We pulled up to an entrance in the black Porsche, away from fans and cameras. Usually Cristiano liked to sign a few footballs and take a couple photos, but he wanted to be in and out of his press conference as soon as possible. “Hello beautiful,” said Antonio, kissing both of my cheeks.

            I smiled, holding Cristiano’s hand, as Antonio continued to speak. “The Mail has called me 25 times and they’re selling pictures to Cuore, Salvame, and In Touch as we speak if you don’t say something.”

            “Is this what the conference is about?” Said Cristiano.

            “No. Football. A few of the other guys are here too. If anyone asks you about this British girl, you don’t know anything.”

            “I wouldn’t be lying because I don’t know anything. Who is this girl?”

            “Your lawyers are working away, trying to get in contact with the Brits and locate some information about this girl and her son. You know it’s their day off today.”

            “Yeah, I do. So we have nothing right now?”

            “ _Nada_.”

            “ _La puta madre_ ,” he squeezed my hand tightly.

            “Please be careful. Make sure you’re not out anywhere without her or else you’ll give them something else to write about, that you’re fucking around.”

            “But I’m not.”

            “They don’t care if you’re not now.”

            “Right.  _Vamos_ , I’m late, and I don’t need anymore problems. You know they contacted her too. Eva called this morning.”

            “They’re really trying to make this a big story,” We passed through security, “Wait.” Antonio stared at his phone.

            “ _Qué_?” He said, tightening his grip on my fingers.

            “Only that they’re wondering where you are,  _no te preocupes._ ”

            He exhaled heavily. “You wait for me, ok? I don’t want them asking you anything.  _Te amo_.” He held my hand up and kissed it, “Later it will be us at the beach, okay?”

            “Love you too,” I tried to smile as he hurried away with Antonio, leaving me alone in the vast hallway. This was a usual part of my routine, the inner parts of stadiums. For work and when I was with him, it was a waiting game of interviews, smiles, and sound bytes. I knew he would be able to work his magic to the journalists, he always did. In the back of my head was worry about the whirlwind that just entered our lives. I was nauseated by the idea that there could possibly be a little version of him running around in England.

           He was mine; we were supposed to have babies together. Not anytime soon, of course, but when it was appropriate. Now, it was not, especially when they belonged to someone else. I closed my eyes and prayed that this woman was crazy, and continued to walk towards the conference room so I could watch my  _novio_  speak about last night’s match. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Put it away.”

I grabbed his Blackberry from his hands as he laid on the huge cream and silver sofa in the living room of our suite. I was already in my sundress (this time fuchsia and white to match my new swimsuit). He was still in his tailor made suit from earlier in the day. I looked at the screen to be greeted by a picture of us in Tahiti, both of us three shades darker than usual. I closed my eyes and remembered that moment, us being silly on our private beach, before we were off to a dinner with more seafood and tropical fruit than I thought was acceptable for two people to eat. After we ate too much, we returned to our room and cuddled the rest of the night while watching bad television and drinking sparkling lemonade.

“ _Qué_?” He said, raising his eyebrow.

“Nothing,” I put the phone on the table. “Come on, we don’t have much time.”

“Would you hate me forever if this kid is mine?” He began to loosen his tie. His eyes looked worried.

“Hate, no. Irritated, yes.”

“I really hope it’s not, but if this is my son, then I would have to take care of him. It’s like karma is punching me in the face or being so horrible earlier. I wanted to start a family with you and look at what happened. It may have already started.”

“We don’t know anything yet.”

“But there is a chance. Who knows how many other people are going to say the same thing. I mean, I thought I was being careful.”

“I’m worried too, but we need more information.”

“I know,  _lo siento corazón_. I’m putting you in the middle of all this,” His eyes were red.

“No, no, no, please don’t cry,  _por favor_ ,” I placed my hand on his shoulders, “Stop.”

“You don’t deserve this at all.”

“No, but I signed up to be with you, so I’m going to be there for you, good, bad, in between, even how you’re looking right now, quite ugly. Smile, for me.”

“It’s hard to smile right now.”

“It is just us, in a villa, in Valencia. I turned off our phones. We are together for a few more hours, and I know what will make you feel a little better.”

“What will make me feel better?”

“ _Pienso que si follamos, te sientes mejo_ r.” I began to giggle, telling him that I thought that a little sex would make him feel better. It was already part of our earlier deal. 

“Two times in one day—” he said, his eyes growing wide from me swearing in Spanish. I learned a few choice words from spending so much time with futbolistas.

“Now?”

I looked outside the window,  “Make it quick, because I’m going to the beach at some point today, even if it’s dusk. You’re going out there with me.”

“Usually when you use  _follar_  it’s quick, corazón.”

“It’s not time for a grammar lesson, let’s do it now. Take” I sat on top of him and began to unbutton his shirt, “It,” I moved close to his face, our eyes locking, “Off.”

His eyes grew wide, and a huge smile came across his face, “What’s gotten into you?” He kissed me, “You take it off too.”

“You first,” I started to unbuckle his black leather belt and undid the button at the top of his pants.

“My turn,” his hands went under my dress and held on to my hips. I could feel his fingers tight grip, each one warm against my skin, “But I promised you the beach, so let’s do that first..”

“OK,  _vamos._ Hurry up and get ready.”

“I will. But don’t look outside yet.”

“Why not.”

“Because, it has to be a  _sorpresa_ , that’s why. Close your eyes.”

I covered my eyes with my hands, peeking through to catch a glance of him changing out of his suit. I was impatient. I needed both the sun and him at the same time. “Ready?” He said, “But still, don’t look yet.”

“All right. Not looking, promise.”

He held my hand and began to walk. I followed, wanting to open my eyes, but didn’t. I eventually felt the sand between my toes and got excited. I was finally at the beach, but would act surprised. I imagined how many strings he had to pull to get us this private villa at the last minute. “Open your eyes,” he said.

I saw blue water of the Mediterranean in front of me and then turned to him, now wearing what I called his ‘cortos pequeñitos.’ I never understood this about European men, the really tiny swim shorts, but he looked so cute regardless. He was smiling, “I can already tell that you’re feeling better.”

“It’s so beautiful,” I said.

“No as beautiful as you,” he kissed my cheek, “ _Te amo._ ”

At this moment, he had my heart in the palms of his hands. This ‘I love you’ felt so genuine. I wanted to blame it on the beach, the sun and the wind blowing the leaves of the palm trees. At this moment, however, I knew that he didn’t want anything more than me to say it back to him. I took both of his hands and said, “ _Te amo_.”

“I love you so much.”

“I know.”

“I want to show you how much I love you,” he took me in his arms and held me close. He felt warm and smelled good. I closed my eyes and felt his chest rise and fall slowly. “Just how you like it.”

“Shh. You don’t have to say anything else. This is perfect.”

“I’m less than perfect, especially after today.”

“Let me see,” I kissed him slowly, going inside his mouth, being the rough one for once. His grip tightened on my hips. “You still taste pretty good to me. Perfect enough.”

“Leah, we should do it right here,” he said in Portuguese. I could sense him getting excited.

“Where?”

“Right here. If you’re afraid of the sand I can run in and bring out a blanket.”

“Outside?” I raised my eyebrow. I understood we were on a private part of the beach, but how private could it really be?

“Yes. Come on,” he smiled, “Plus, it’s a mix of your day at the beach and exactly what I wanted to do today–you.”

“I guess.”

He turned to go to the villa, walking quickly. I couldn’t help but look at his perfectly sculpted legs and bottom. How lucky I was to have someone so beautiful. He must have been eager because he returned through the backdoor carrying a silver blanket. “Cristiano,” I said as he walked down the stairs.

“ _Qué_?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Why?” He replied, running his free hand through his hair.

“Because it’s outside, and I know how noisy you are. Besides–” I said looking down at him and giggling a little bit. Sometimes being with him brought out this teenage side of me that was nearly embarrassed to see a boy nearly  _desnudo._  I had to remind myself that this was perfectly normal. I was not dreaming. He belonged to me. _"_ All of the sand. And it’s hot. We can burn. Are you sure this is a good idea?“

“I’ve been waiting for you since this morning,” he said, laying the blanket on the sand by my feet. “Leah, you promised to be more adventurous. Both of us are brown already. No sunburn,  _nada_ , stop worrying.”

"You win.”

We sat and began slowly, starting with cuddling, enjoying the quietness of the beach and just being together. 

“You know that I really love you,” he said pausing to kiss my nose, “Before anything that happens tomorrow, I want some time for just us and nothing else..”

I kissed him hard, biting his lower lip. “I know. Stop talking, please. What do you want to do?”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just do it quickly,” his hand moved up my dress, “I can’t wait any longer,” his hands moved up, slipping under my bikini top, “Let’s go.”

“Let me start, no?” I took off my dress, thinking about how we should have just left our clothes inside as he had suggested earlier.

I felt him enter me quickly, my legs now wrapped around his lower back. “Vamos,” he said, next sucking my neck. He decided to move, his body now over me. His movement became stronger, faster. I let him continue to kiss my body as he rocked, his hands situated next to my shoulders. I felt him finish, and he was noisy as usual. He could tell I wasn’t too pleased with his performance; I needed to stop showing my emotions in my face.

“I have to make sure that you’re feeling good too,” He whispered in my ear.

As he promised, he was going to do this exactly how I liked it. “Let me start here,” he said beginning with a kiss on my forehead. He continued down, pausing when he came across my lips. “ _Dulce_ ,” he whispered, his dark brown eyes staring into mine. They looked never ending today.

He moved to my neck and then my collar bone, moving the kisses down my body. The further down he moved, the more excited I became. Now I knew how he felt a little earlier, I wanted him to hurry and finish the feelings he initiated. He started slowly. I put my hands on the back of his neck. He became more intense, and I began to say his name, just how he liked it. “ _Mi amor_ ,” I said between breathing loudly, “Can you do it again?”

“What?” He asked.

“I need you again.”

“Really?”

“It doesn’t matter. Do it quickly. ”

 “Ok,” he said, moving me to my side, “We can try something new. You said you wanted to be adventurous?”

He held me close, wrapping his legs between mine. We were intertwined together, and he gave me a quick kiss. “I think you can wait a little more,  _corazón_.”

“I can’t,” I whined because I both wanted to reach the peak he had already experienced earlier, and also because he had entered me. I held on tightly to his back as he began to do the work, beginning to move his hips in circles.

“Now you know how I feel when we’re together,” He said as I started to move with him. I wanted to finish quickly, but couldn’t. He kept speaking, “How badly do you want me to hurry up?” He was teasing me now.

“I want it now,” I told him as he touched the length of my back. I could feel him move deeper as I tried to let my body relax, “ _Por favor_.”

“I love it when you’re like this—” He said teasing me.

“Hurry up,” I said as he gave me a slightly devilish look, raising his eyebrow.

“You can wait a little longer,” he whispered, touching the spot on my back that was most ticklish. He rubbed as he continued to move inside me. I became a little noisy as I became closer and closer to the sensation I was waiting for. Finally, I screamed just how he liked me to. Although I was frustrated with him for taking so long, I suppose I did get a mix of what I wanted: Cris and the beach.

He said jokingly, “Feeling good now? Was that good enough for you Miss Difficult?“

“You’re not funny,” I said, taking some of the sand that I imagined was now all through my hair and throwing it at him.

“Two times in one day? What a team we are,” he smiled a boyish grin, “ _Pues_ , I think I got what I needed.”

“Can you say that again?”

“Say what?”

“Nothing.” I slipped my dress over my head, “You must be sick then.” I put my hand on his forehead. It was a little sweaty.

“We have time,  _linda_ ,” he said putting on his shorts, “We have plenty of time.”

“I know, but I like it when it’s just us, when we have nothing to do, no one to worry about, no responsibilities, no television, no football, nothing. I like it when it’s just you and me together, nothing else. No phones, no laptops, no annoying agents— _solo nosotros_. I just wish we had more time like that. We never have that type of time.”

“I promise you when football is over that we’ll have a few trips away from everything together, and it will be  _solo nosotros_ , ok?”

My mind slipped to the drama that was revealed earlier in the day. “Promise?”

“Anything for you. I don’t care about what other things happen around us involving football, magazines, or anything else. Tell me where you want to go and we’ll go there. And you know when I have the national team game in June?”

“Yes, why?”

“After we’re going to spend the weekend at the beach. Then I have about two weeks off before I start preseason for Real.”

“I’m going to LA with you. I miss the states so much.”

“I know. What do you want to do now?” he took my hands, “We finally have time to relax.  _Te amo_.”

“ _Te amo_ ,” I said to him before he kissed me lightly, "And absolutely nothing. That is exactly what I want to do.”

I decided that I would take in the rest of our day together, try not to think about the possibility of a new person entering our lives. I would pretend that everything was business as usual. What did I know that this mentality would last only briefly in the days to come.


	5. Chapter 5

       “Look.”  
       The flight from Valencia home was short; far too short. He had practice a couple hours after we touched the ground, and I had a few hours until I needed to begin preparing for work the next day. I was half asleep on his shoulder, tired from a long night on the beach. He had his iPad in his lap, reading a mountain of emails he had ignored the night before. We agreed to turn off our phones and laptops until this morning. He had anticipated a headache today, but what I was about to see awoke me from my sleepy haze.  
       “What?” I said, thinking about the café waiting for me in Madrid, or even better, my bed.  
       “It’s him,” he said quietly, “They’re pictures from Facebook from one of his mother’s friends. Look.“  
       “How did you find these?”  
       “Eva. What do you think?”  
       I looked at the screen in his lap to be greeted by a little caramel brown face with big, deep, dark brown eyes. He had a little round nose and an adorable toothy smile. His hair, nearly black, was pointed in the middle. I recognized the red of his shirt as a mini Manchester United jersey. He was holding a cup of ice cream, and from the photo it looked like strawberry. There was a little bit of it in the corner of his mouth, and on his hands. I studied his face. He reminded me of the little kids in his family. I couldn’t speak. _  
“_ There are more.”  
       “Show them to me.”   
       He moved to the next photo, this one with the boy dressed in a little polo and khaki shorts. He wore a backwards cap, the same light blue as his shirt. His head was tilted slightly to the right, and he had a slight smile. His eyes were wide, green grass surrounding him. It looked like he was spending the day at the park. The following picture was him in a yellow rain coat and boots that looked like bees. He stood looking at his feet in the middle of a puddle.  
       “Did she tell you his name?” I asked, as he moved to the next picture, the baby asleep on a tan colored couch, a sippy cup tightly gripped in his hand. He had the same serious look that Cristiano often had when he was tired after a tough match, often passing out on our couch until I insisted that sleeping in the bed would make him feel better.  
       “Connor. It’s so English.”  
       “Are there any more pictures?”  
       “ _Si_ ,” he scrolled to the next picture of Connor, this one of him devouring a chocolate chip cookie, his little fingers barely visible around its edges. As cute as this kid was, I felt my stomach begin to drop. It wasn’t due to the changing altitude of the plane, it was because this kid looked like he had been produced by Cristiano himself. Everything screamed Cristiano from his eyes to his expressions, his smile, even how he happened to happily be eating strawberry ice cream.  
       “ _Entonces_ , you don’t know anything else?”  
       “No. _Nada_. Only pictures of him.”  
       “Yeah,” I felt my eyes begin to burn. I wasn’t going to cry. I didn’t even know if this was his child—they were only photos. Photos that looked identical to some of his family photos we had of him at the house. The slightly fading photos of him between his siblings, deeply tanned and smiling at the beach. I looked down at the screen to be greeted by a little boy that was about to be thrown into the middle of an ugly media frenzy and custody battle, unless Eva and Antonio could work their magic and push the story away from the eyes of the public. I hoped in the deepest part of my heart that Connor wasn’t his, but the pictures didn’t lie. I didn’t need a laboratory test to figure this one out.  
       “ _No te lloras_ ,” he said, putting his fingers between mine on his upper thigh, telling me not to cry “Please, don’t.”  
       “So, what do we even do now?”  
       “I don’t know,” he whispered, “When I have more information and figure this all out, I want to go to England and see him and get it all taken care of, and it will be fine.” His run-on sentence sounded like something I would say.  
       “Before or after you know if he’s yours?”  
       “Before. I want you to go with me,  _corazón_.”  
       “When?”  
       “And the end of the week, after my game. We can go to Manchester really late, and then talk to her in the morning. I want to see her, and the baby, and then after that we can only wait.“  
       “Tomorrow?  _Dios mío_.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about this anymore, “Cristiano, you’re so stressful.”  
       “I know. And I’m sorry a million times. I promise you anything that you want after this is over,” he said switching to English and kissing my forehead.

This was serious. I envisioned the silver Porsche I’d been wanting with black leather interior and pink floral stitching in its head rests. I could feel the wind through my hair with the windows rolled down with my loud music blasting in the speakers. I opened my eyes to look at him, now he was the one with red eyes. Luckily his frustration was being expressed with sadness instead of the angry bout I had witnessed the day before. “And now you, no crying,” I said, putting my free hand on top of his, rubbing it gently, “No tears.”

Like clockwork, the voice of the flight attendant resounded through the cabin, “Señoras y caballeros,” she began beginning the speech I had now heard a million times. I wanted the plane to keep flying in circles, and possibly take me far away from Madrid and the mess I anticipated.

“ _Calmate, respirate_ , for me? This will all be over.” I kissed his cheek, the outline of my lips staining the side of his face from my lipgloss.


	6. Chapter 6

“Remember, English until Thursday, so get to practicing.”

I sat at the island, with a cup of  _café con leche_  and a piece of bread with tomato on top. I had gained this habit after living in Barcelona for a little time in college. He was peeling a couple oranges to put into some type of breakfast-protein-muscle-semi-awful smoothie creation that I didn’t understand. He had already put a banana and yogurt into the blender. Today the concoction would include the oranges, a few slices of pineapple, some of my strawberries, yogurt ice and finally a scoop or two of protein powder.

“Want some?” he asked, dropping the first orange halves into the blender. He already knew the answer was no.

“No thank you. That powder just made it gross. What’s next? Two raw eggs?”

“I didn’t think about that. Good idea.” He said, adding the strawberries.

“What time do you have to go today?”

“Three-ish. Are you coming tonight?” He said talking about the game at the Bernabéu that evening.

“Yes. I only have the 3:00 news today. Are you feeling any better?”

“For someone who may or may not have a mystery son, sure.” He put the second orange in the blender and pressed the button. The sound of the ice crunching was how I imagined he wanted to react to the situation that was haunting him until it was resolved the next day. “You know what your Eva said? I forgot to tell you.”

“No, what?”

“You know how she called this morning at like 5:30.”

“Yeah, what did she say?”

“She has more information about  _her_.”

“Explain.”

“She’s your age, but she doesn’t really do much of anything. She’s not like you at all” he paused, “I really wonder what will happen with all of this.”

“So she’s my age, and not beautiful and smart. Anything else?”

“She’s really into  _futbolistas **,**_ really into them.”

"I’m really into  _futbolistas_  too, but I don’t have any mystery babies.” I thought out loud.

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“So what’s happening when we go to Manchester?” I said changing the topic; well not really. 

“We’re going to talk to her, make sure she doesn’t say anything to the press even if this kid isn’t mine. Make sure everything’s clean so we can be back to normal.”

“It will be that easy?”

“I think so. But what she doesn’t know is that I have a lot of people helping me.”

“But what if she’s right–if you have–"I couldn’t say it. Putting it into words was too painful.

"If he’s mine I want to make sure he’s cared for, but I don’t want her taking advantage of what I would want to be his. I wouldn’t want him to have to do anything just to take care of his family, so I would put aside money for his university or whatever he decides to do.”

“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” I said, commenting on how I observed that he hadn’t been himself ever since we received the phone calls. He was playing horribly, not sleeping, and very cranky. It was driving me a little crazy. I wanted my normal boyfriend back. 

"I guess. I mean, it’s why I haven’t been able to sleep. There have been a million things running through my head, especially about you and I don’t know, it’s just too much.”

“You know that I still love you, right?”

“I would find it so hard to love me right now.”

I glanced down at the ring on my finger. Three years together, four months engaged, and it felt like it was quickly falling apart at the sound of a phone call. I wouldn’t let this break us. I knew dating him would be messy, but I never in a million years expected something like  _this_. 

My life was becoming a television drama where I was the actress eager to leave the series and start a new program. Too bad I didn’t realize the next series would be an awful reality show where I was cast as the evil, clingy girlfriend. 


	7. Chapter 7

It was the day I was dreading after Cristiano received the results about Connor. Manchester greeted us with the most awful weather, grey skies and rain. I couldn’t believe we had left sunny Madrid for this. I purposefully refused to go to Manchester before today. I had lived there for a little while when I was in school and felt like I had left a huge part of my heart there. It felt like I was returning to become heartbroken again, but for a different reason. I would run out of heart pieces pretty soon. 

Regardless of the sun, home had been nothing but dreary. For the days that followed him getting the news about  _el niño_ , Cristiano was not himself. At home he was miserable. The palacio was quiet. We spent a lot of our time cuddled together silently. He was playing horribly missing important and seemingly easy goals.

I ran into one of his teammates, Sergio Ramos, after practice to gossip about Cristiano. I had gone to surprise him after work. I was trying every method I could think of to get him out of this cold spell. “He’s not doing well,” he began, “Today he was practicing his free kicks and nearly every one didn’t go in. He grew increasingly frustrated. Mou told him to go home, but he wouldn’t. He wanted to keep working. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.“

If only I could tell him, but it wasn’t my news to tell.

Cristiano was curled in a ball next to me in the hotel bed. He was under the sheets, back facing me sitting on top of them reading his emails on his iPad from Eva and Antonio. I knew he was awake, and would occasionally rub one of my hands down his bare back, outlining his spine. He occasionally mumbled something in Portuguese without turning towards me.

"What’s bothering you?” Way to ask an obvious question, Leah.

“I can’t do anything right,” He said slowly, “Life, fútbol, nothing.”

This time, I put my chin on the upper part of his arm. “ _Te amo_ ,” I said, “ _Te amo muchisimo_.”

“I can’t see her tomorrow,” he said, continuing in Portuguese, “What am I going to say?.”

“You have to see  _el niño._ ”

“ _Pero_ , you know I’m not good with words. That’s your job.” he said,  accent heavy. When he was distressed he didn’t try to mask it as he’d been practicing since he was a little kid. He told me the stories about football academy where his teammates would mock him, causing him to call his Mom and beg her to let him return home. He was the kid from the small island moving to the big city at the age of eleven. Many people didn’t know this side of him, but this is what made him a real person, not just a futbolista you only saw in magazines and on TV. This was my Cristiano, the very real and sometimes vulnerable guy curled next to me in the middle of Manchester. 

"Cris, you’re one of the best athletes in the world, and you’re afraid of a three-year-old?” I said, rubbing his shoulder.

“It’s not that easy, Leah. If he’s mine, I’ve missed so much. It hurts to think about it.”

“We’ll we’ll find out tomorrow, and there’s a place with a really great fish and chips I really want to go to–or we can go for English breakfast, there’s another little spot I I like here too.”

“You’ve never told me why Manchester is so important to you.”

“You know that I studied here in college for a semester.”

“Good thing you like it; we may have to come here a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sleep, will you?”

I didn’t want to talk about Manchester, nor did I want to think of the possibility of someone else joining us possibly forever. Forever is a long time. 


	8. Chapter 8

“He takes a nap around three. Sometimes warm milk helps him go to sleep, or tell him a story. Be creative. He’s not allergic to anything and really likes his fruit and veggies. Don’t let him have too many sweets—he really has a sweet tooth. Also, watch out for him if you take him to the park. Since he’s tall, the other kids sometimes think he’s older than what he is. He just turned three a couple of weeks ago. I think I gave you everything you need already. You have my number.”

Since I heard ‘It’s not what you want at hear’ from Cristiano the morning before, it was one thing after another. Meeting el niño’s mother, lawyers, publicists, doing my own personal research–it was too much. I didn’t like children…at least not yet, especially ones that belonged to my futbolista, my boyfriend, my Cristiano who apparently made a big mistake and was left with that: an extremely adorable, wide-smiled little brown miniature replica of himself who was called Connor and constantly hugged a stuffed cloth dog tightly. ('His name is Rooney,’ he told me, stuffing it in my face. 'As in Wayne?’ I thought to myself. She was training this kid early.)

Cristiano had gone to see him and his mother the day before when he found out about  _las noticias_ , the news. I decided to mope around in our hotel room, eat Galaxy bars and a Dairy Milk filled McFlurry while watching awful television. It technically wasn’t my business, and it was killing me that I couldn’t tell my story to one of my best friends in Madrid, María Carmen or Carolina. 

We were standing in the living room of Connor’s mother, Jessica’s flat. It was hard to tell that a baby lived here. I concluded that she must have kept most of Connor’s things in his room. He was sitting, quietly playing with his stuffed dog while his mother was explaining nearly every little detail about him. “Connor,” she said, changing her tone, “Did you see who’s here to see you?”

He looked up, his dark brown eyes looking like they were nearly in tears, and went back to playing with his puppy. “He’s mad at me,” she continued, “He can be so stubborn.”

Imagine how stubborn you’d feel if your Mum was handing you over to someone you didn’t know too. I could tell the little guy sensed something was up. This wasn’t a normal outing. It was going to turn into something fairly permanent.

I didn’t know what Cristiano and  _her_  talked about the day before until about 2 in the morning. He didn’t want to talk when he got back to the hotel. He showered, kissed me, and went straight to bed, leaving me alone with hundreds of channels in English (something I dearly missed). He woke up in the middle of the night, sat on the couch next to me and said, “Leah, you’re going to hate me.”

“Why?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be this time.

“So, you already know he’s mine,  _el niño_ , but she wants him to go back with us.”

I dropped my half-eaten pack of Skittles. I was consuming all of my favorite sweets today, no shame. There was no way I would fit into the skinny dress I bought for an event the next week. “Go back where?” I asked.

“To Spain. Madrid.  _El palacio_ ,” He said, referring to his house that I named The Palace before I unofficially moved in. Although I had my own apartment, it was quite silly at this point. I spent most of my nights at Cristiano’s anyway. I knew it was love when he offered me my own closet in the master bedroom.

“Cristiano, what do you know about children? I don’t like children, you don’t really like them. This is an awful idea. What were you thinking? _Co_ _ño_.” I was now cursing in Spanish.

“Leah, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“It’s not going to be permanent, only for a little bit. Besides, the season is almost over and he’ll only be there a few weeks. My mom will come and it will be fine.”

“ _Tengo sueño_ , I’m tired, I’m going to bed,” I said, not wanting to think about it anymore.

“Leah, please. I need your help.”

“I hate that I love you so, so much. Do you realize that?”

***

Connor’s mother went over and picked him up. The sun was out, so he was dressed in an adorable little light blue polo and shorts. “I promise you, he’s not normally like this,” Said Jessica, as Connor began to whine a little, “Look, remember him?”

“Airplane,” said Connor, his demeanor changing. He reached his arms out to Cristiano who hesitantly grabbed him. I knew the game he must have played to impress Connor, picking him up and 'flying’ him around the room. I had watched him do it with his little nephews and cousins.

“I suppose you made a good first impression on someone yesterday,” said Jessica, semi sarcastically. I already didn’t like her tone; “Anyhow, I’ll meet you at 7 at the hotel. Everything you need should be in his backpack.”

“Ok,” said Cristiano, hoping to make the exchange as quick as possible, “Say goodbye to your Mum.”

“No,” whimpered Connor, hiding his face in Cristiano’s shirt.

“I promise you he’ll be better,” said Jessica, “Take good care of him.”

We walked out of the flat, Connor holding tightly to Cristiano’s body and me carrying his little blue Penguin backpack. “ _Qué paso_?” said Cristiano to Connor, cuddling him close.

“What’s wrong little guy?” I said, repeating his question in English.

“What are we doing wrong already?” whispered Cristiano to me. Connor looked at me, still teary eyed, and then buried his face back into Cristiano’s shirt.

“I have no idea—he’s pretty miserable,  _pobrecito_. Do you think he senses what’s going on at all?”

Cristiano exhaled loudly, “Like she wants to send him with us?”

“Yeah. And now he’s going back to the  _palacio_. It’s not even safe for adults. There is a pool in the back. Out the sliding doors, straight into the pool!”

“Leah,“ he rolled his eyes and continued to the next thought, "Connor,  _mira_ , we can go play in the park, have lunch, and if you’re good get a couple of toys today before you go back to your Mum, ok?”

It was all too much for me: the emotional boyfriend, the toddler, the crazy Mum. I wanted to go back to Madrid and hide from all of this. If only I knew this was the beginning.


	9. Chapter 9

I woke up alone in the bed wearing one of Cristiano’s t-shirts. My head was aching and I felt exhausted. I wanted a huge cup of coffee. I assumed Cristiano was out training and decided to head to the kitchen to find something to eat. It wasn’t cleaning day, so I knew I should have been the only person in the house. Sliding on a pair of slippers, I walked out the bedroom and down the big spiral marble staircase to the first floor. I could smell something cooking in the kitchen. I walked in groggily to find Cristiano standing at the island stove in the middle of the kitchen.

            “ _Ola_  sleepy, what happened to you?”

            “No, the bigger question is why are you cooking?”

            I went over and kissed his cheek. His face felt smooth—he must have recently shaved. He was slightly stubbly the day before and I didn’t like it at all. 

            “I’m cooking because I’m hungry.”

            “What are you making?”

            “ _Linguiça_ , potatoes, eggs–Want some?”

            “ _Claro que si_ ,“ I said telling him of course, "I have the worst headache in the world, and I have no idea why.”

            “I don’t know. The kid that lives here was screaming half the night and I may have given you a little too much  _vino dulce_ ,” Talking about the sweet wine my friend Carolina had brought me from her weekend trip in Huelva.

            “And why would you do that?”

            “Connor was being awful, you were miserable and I wanted to loosen you up. You know how you get when you have the slightest bit of wine.”

            “Thanks, Cris. Where is el niño, anyway?”

            “Taking a nap. Mãe is getting him today.” He was talking about his Mother who had agreed to take Connor for the time he had with him–time that was beginning to quickly seem quite permanent. I wasn’t used to the whole idea of someone else living here other than Cristiano, me, and my dog, Kai. I remembered that I did have my own apartment that I sometimes stayed at when I really needed to get work done and couldn’t be distracted by the handsome boyfriend. 

            I looked at the clock on the wall: it was nearly two. Two. This was Spanish lunch time. It wasn’t the weekend, so sleeping in this late was unacceptable in my book. “You’ve already been to training and everything. It’s so late.”

            “ _No te preocupes_. I know it’s your off day. Besides, you know what I get to do today.”

            “Me?” I said anxiously.

            “Yes, and take you shopping.”

            “Shopping for what?”

            “Your car.”

            “ _Que?_ ”

            “I promised you whatever you wanted, and you said you wanted a new car. We can go look at some, eat something, and then it will just be us here.”

            “I want you now,” I whined, leaning against him. I needed him right this very instant. He wrapped his arms around my body, “It’s been so long.”

            “We should do it in the car.” He grinned. This was something I knew he had been wanting to do with me for awhile. I was slightly boring–and worried about space and being seen regardless of the presidential style tinted windows on all of Cristiano’s cars. 

            “Oh no, not in my car—In your batmobile, perhaps. My new Porsche, oh no.”

            “Who said I’m getting you a Porsche? I was thinking a little Seat or something,” he added some pepper to the skillet, “We can’t both have a Porsche.”

            “Cristiano,” I slowly said his name, turning around to look him in his eyes, “You said anything and you know how much I want a Carrera, one of the little cute ones. I may even let you drive it and give you a  _beso_.”

             _"Linda_ , one kiss? I think I need ten.”

            “ _Uno,_ ” I said, kissing his nose, “ _Dos_ ,” I moved to his mouth, only kissing him lightly.

            Cristiano reached around me to turn off the stove and said, “I think that we can wait a little to have lunch.“

            “ _Tres_ ,” I said, now moving to his neck. I felt his hands grab onto my bottom a little tighter. “ _Cuatro_ ,” I didn’t have time for ten kisses, and I knew if I teased him he’d quickly give into me.

            He exhaled, “Now.”

            “Now, what?” I slipped my hand outside his shorts, feeling the part of him that had been unused for a little while. It was great being a tease.

            “ _Dios mio_ ,” he said, "This would be so much easier if you weren’t wearing anything.”

            “In the kitchen–and just me? You too!” I kissed him quickly, “Cinco.”

            “Leah, sometimes you kill me,” he smiled anyway, “You choose today.“

“I don’t know,” I felt him more tightly, "But, I can tell you’re getting more excited to see me.” Another kiss. More of a bite on the neck, but it counted towards my goal of ten. “Seis.”

            I knew that he hated waiting for anything. As soon as his hands were under the bottom of the material on my shirt,before he could even undress me, I heard loud crying–tears and screams of agony. I closed my eyes, and quickly counted to ten. It was over before it even began. I was mad at myself for sleeping in so late.

“He just went to sleep,” muttered Cristiano closing his eyes, “Like five minutes before you came downstairs.”

            “You should see if he’s ok.”

            “I want him to go to sleep. I don’t understand why he won’t sleep.”

            “He has to get used to living here, that’s all.”

  
We walked upstairs to the room (me, going to put on something more decent first) we had quickly changed for Connor. Luckily the  _Palacio_  was gigantic and had lots of rooms that were never used. It was now cute (led by my expertise of course) with plush soccer balls and stuffed animals and nearly anything a three-year-old could possibly want or need. Although this stuff was great, I couldn’t imagine that it could be better than being at your actual  _home_. We were trying to make this his home too. 

Connor sat in the middle of his bed, tightly clutching his stuffed puppy, Rooney. My dog, Kai was laying at the foot of the bed and happily greeted me when I walked into the room. “What happened?” asked Cristiano picking Connor up and holding him close. He was breathing heavily and crying. “You have Kai to protect you, and your  _mascota_  too?” Cristiano said, referring to Rooney. 

            “No,” whined Connor.

            “Okay, we’ll stay. But I have a story for you. Right, Leah?“

            “Yeah?” I said, quickly trying to play along.

            “You know that Kai is a special dog.”

            “How?”

            “When I’m not here he makes sure that Leah is safe and takes care of her. See his nose? He’s able to smell bad dreams and take them away. If you have one call for him, and he will help you.”

            Connor looked at me for affirmation of Cristiano’s story.

            I looked at the little guy’s sad eyes, and then at my puppy and said, “Of course. When I’m alone in this big house, Kai keeps me company and makes sure I’m not afraid. He’s a superhero.” Good thing I was great at thinking quickly. 

            “Ooh?”

            “Yeah. Do you want to know his special power?”

            “Yeah!” Connor’s eyes lit up as I sat on the edge of the bed, Kai’s head in my lap.

            “ _Miralo_. See how Kai’s fur covers his eyes. It’s a disguise for the bad dreams. They think he can’t see them, but boom! He sees and sniffs them and then guess what?”

            “What?”

            “He eats them. They go right into his belly,” I tickled Connor’s tummy and he began to laugh, “So, whenever you can’t sleep, don’t worry because Kai will help you. He’s a good puppy.”

            “Okay,” said Connor. We were convincing to a three-year-old. It felt pretty good.

            “ _Si_ ,” said Cristiano, “Just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

            “Promise?”

            “Promise.”

            “Can I have a  _beso_?” He stretched his arms out. I guess we talked about  _besos_  a lot around here. 

            “You can have two” Cristiano and I both kissed Connor’s cheeks. He scrunched his nose, “Can you sleep now?”

            “Night.” 

Cristiano kissed the top of Connor’s head again. We sat at the edge of the bed until he closed his eyes. Kai sat his head in my lap as I rubbed him. I observed how Cristiano watched Connor. Every time he looked at him was like it was the first time he saw him. He stared at him, and closed his eyes. “What’s wrong?” I asked him.

“ _Coraçao_ , I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s miserable. We’re miserable. Even the dog is probably miserable.“

“It’s fine. It will all be fine soon.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“It just all seems so soon–like I wouldn’t trust me to have him for so long. Why did she do that?” He was talking about Connor’s mother. From what I saw of her she was quite awful, but I was quite biased. 

“All we know is that we have him for now and have to make sure that he’s taken care of.”

“I guess.”

“I’m so sorry—it seems like everything is getting in the way of us being us.”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t even get my ten  _besos_ ”

“I wasn’t planning on giving you ten anyway.”

“Yeah right,” he said, crossing his arms, “Who could resist this?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I got up, Cristiano following me out the room, “And you  _mi amor_  stay here.”

“You just called the dog  _mi amor_?“

“Yes, Kai is my love, he’s my baby.”

“It’s a dog.”

“Yes, Kai is a dog, but he keeps me company, especially when you’re not here—and he understands English far better than you do.”

“I understand enough. It’s like your Portuguese. Understand this: no car for you,“ he said switching to Portuguese at the end of the phrase.

“Understand this: yes you are. Besides, if I wanted to I could buy my own. Don’t you see my nice BMW sitting outside?”

“That car is for children.”

“You know what? I don’t even want to do anything with you today.”

“What changed?”

“You’re being awful. Making fun of my car, my dog. Don’t let me get started on you.”

“Start,” He grinned at my growing frustration with him.

“I’m not giving into you this time,” I said, folding my arms.

“Ay, you’re so beautiful,” he said, touching the side of my face, “You know I like everything about you, even your silly dog and your car,  _coraçao_. And I like the way you get mad at me too.”

“Oh, really?”

He kissed me lightly. “ _Venga_. Our lunch is getting cold and we have things to do. How can you buy a car on an empty stomach and without giving me the rest of my kisses?”

 


	10. Chapter 10

I held the key in my hand, shaking it to hit the ridiculous key chain I bought to go along with it: a mini Flamenco shoe. My new car was absolutely perfect. I had gone to the dealer with Cristiano to custom order it and adjust it to my every whim. The interior was perfect. I had a ridiculous sound system installed, and it even had tinted windows to protect me from the paparazzi. I picked the 911 Carrera S in cream. It was small, cute and sporty, and I was anxious to drive it. Parked in the garage next to one of Cristiano’s cars it looked like  a Hot Wheels toy. It made my beloved BMW look out of style—but that was still my favorite. My BMW was the product of my own work, something I had dreamed of and worked quite hard for. This car, however, was a present, and one I deeply deserved.

Cristiano beat me home this particular day, and had two mysterious blue boxes with white ribbons waiting for me. He kissed me hello, and then handed them to me with a smile on his face. “What do you want?” I asked, confused on why he would be surprising me with anything. Sending the flowers and my favorite  _trufas_  to my job that was enough. He was up to something, but I wasn’t quite sure what.

“I just want you, that’s all. And a few things for you just got here. I ordered them a little while ago.”

I walked in, put my key in my pocket, and took the first box from his hand. I opened it to find a diamond encrusted silver key chain with a ‘L’ on it. “For your car,” he said, “You can’t have a shoe on your Porsche key.”

The second box was a beautiful sparkling silver dress. It was one I had been eying by Versace, but not nearly bold enough to buy. It was short and the back was scooped low. “Cris, what do you want—this is lovely, but something’s up.”

“I can’t just treat my  _coraçao_  with nice things?”

“No. What happened?“ Something was clearly up.

I followed him into the front room to find Connor sleeping on the couch and my dog Kai keeping watch of him. Connor’s sanity was dependent on my fuzzy companion, and he only fell asleep when Kai was around. I wonder how he managed to behave while he was with Cristiano’s Mum. Then I saw the bunch of magazines on the couch. They had pictures of  _her_  and Cristiano from his Manchester United days. I then realized that this thing he had with Connor’s mother lasted more than one night. I didn’t want to think about it. 

“What are those?” I asked.

“Iker told me today that Sara saw a few of these in a magazine this morning and was confused because the pictures weren’t with you and looked old. Wait until you read it.”

I picked up the first magazine. It happened to be in English. “ _Still not a player? Still can’t believe that Cristiano Ronaldo’s been with Leah Hamilton Fox for three years? Neither can we…”_

I didn’t need to read anymore. “I wanted to distract you from seeing these stories online or stopping by the store,” he continued, his accent sounding unusually thick, “All the things they can talk about, all the stories in the world and they want to bother you.”

“How do they know about her though?”

I looked at the grainy picture of the two looking cozy at what looked like a nightclub. Cris had his hair cut stupidly and she was wearing a tight dress, looking close to perfection. I could see why he fell for her trap that night. She was brown, tall, curvy, had beautiful long hair, a gorgeous smile—she was perfect and more gorgeous than I could ever possibly be. 

“I don’t know.”

“I just want to take a shower, and go to bed, and when I wake up tomorrow everything will be back to the way it should be.”

“I wish it was that easy.”

“It’s just ever since the Copa, nothing has been the same around here. We’re in the tabloids every week, my work is shit, we have a kid, I have photographers waiting outside my job everyday, I can’t even buy coffee without someone in my face. I just want to know when all of this will be over.”

“All of what, Leah? I’m sorry—I’m sorry a million times, but I don’t know how to answer your question. I just don’t know.”

            I wasn’t done. “And why is she just coming out of nowhere? She’s not allowed to talk, right? Especially since he’s staying with us, right? That was part of the deal, am I right?”

            “ _Coraçao_ ,” he said putting his arms around me and holding me tightly, “What’s really bothering you?”

            “Worst day at work ever,” I whispered. I was trying to hold back the tears.

            “Why?” For the first time that day I felt safe.

            “It just felt weird from the beginning. How they were all looking at me—especially after I got the flowers from you. It’s like they knew something was up. And I left today to have photographers outside, someone called me a  _puta_ , oh and someone was lovely enough to scratch the side of my car. And now there are pictures of me in magazines trying to figure out when you will leave me. Oh, and I broke one of my heels too. The ones that you bought me.”

            “The black with the gold heels?” I sometimes forgot how detailed he was with fashion (although it sometimes didn’t work out too well).

            “Yes, those ones. It’s one of my favorite pairs. And so now I just want to go to bed. I’m going to wake up and it’s going to be the day of the Copa, and nothing happened.”

            “ _Coraçao_ , we can fix your car and your shoe and I can fix whomever called you a  _puta_. I’m pretty sure I can make you feel better too.”

            “Cris, you don’t have to. You already bought the dress and the key chain and the flowers and trufas. I’m fine. I’m just complaining a lot today.”

            “No,  _amor_ ,” He kissed my nose, “What can I do to make you feel better? I’ll call the Porsche people and they can fix your car tomorrow and we’ll get new shoes made for you and my Mae can get Connor so it’s just us.”

            “Cris, I promise you, I’m fine.”

            “Seriously. Anything.”

            “Anything?”

            “Yes,  _coraçao_.”

            “I want lentils and then really awful television and popcorn And then I just want you to hold me.”

            “ _Lentejas_  are going to make you sleepy,“ He said, referring to one of my favorite Spanish meals, ” I want to hold you now.”

            “Cris, I’m yours.”

            “ _Un beso_?” He kissed me lightly, “I suppose we do have to wait, Connor’s up.”

            “How do you know?”

            I saw two brown eyes peering over the top of the couch. “ _Hola_ ,” I grabbed Connor from the couch, causing him to burst into a fit of giggles. He was so adorable that it was hard to not immediately fall in love with the little guy. Today I could tell that Cristiano dressed him. He was wearing a Burberry polo, red hoodie, and khaki shorts. He usually went over the top when he dressed Connor. “Did you have him in the shoes today?” I asked after giving Connor a  _besito_.

            “Which ones?” said Cristiano reaching over for Connor. I wouldn’t give him up.

            “The Burberry shoes—the little trainers you bought the other week. Do you realize his outfit today is like $600?”

            “I don’t really think about those things. I went to pick up a few things for us, and got some things for the  _niño_ too. He had on the shoes, they match his outfit.”

            “Tell him you don’t need to dress like him,” I said to Connor tickling his belly, “Tell him  _‘No quiero!_ ’”

            “ _No quiero_!” he said, then hiding his face against my body, like he understood that I was having him mock Cristiano. As much as I loved him, I sometimes didn’t understand many of his fashion choices.

            “Give me,” Cristiano took Connor from my arms and said, “Don’t listen to her.”

            “You know it’s true. Look,” I pulled my phone from my pocket and showed him the picture I had as my screensaver. It was Cris and Connor from head to toe in Gucci in aviator glasses and identical faux-hawks in their hair. I was both frightened and overwhelmed by the adorableness and slight tackiness of the two.

            “Don’t be jealous you can’t dress like us,” He said, “Someone seems like they’re a little better right now.”

* * *

“Leah.”

I was sitting on the bed, finishing my last email of the night on my iPad. My day off was the next day, and I had planned to go to the Real Madrid game and run a few errands in the city without being attacked by photographers. I wouldn’t let them get to me like they did today. I wasn’t feeling glamorous at all—my hair in a ponytail and wearing one of Cristiano’s t-shirts and my favorite pajama shorts that I had bought in college.

He was standing by his massive closet, taking off his clothes slowly. I pretended not to look, but my email wasn’t that interesting. He knew I was watching him—that’s why he had called my name. “Yes,” I said, waiting for him to slip off his pants.

“ _Nada_.” He turned around and smiled, “Caught you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, pretending to look at the iPad again. I didn’t understand why he was taking so long. Before I knew it, he was in front of me in nothing but his knickers. “What?”

“Turn it off,” he leaned over me to give me a kiss, “And I don’t want to hear that you’re not easy today.”

“Don’t use my line on me,  _coraçao_ ,” I turned it off and put it in on the side table, “Why are you tempting me like this now? Come here.”

“Fine,” he leaned over me and kissed me again. This time it was longer. I took in his taste, how he made me feel warm, and the familiar smell of his cologne. “

“Why did you choose me?” I asked him, “All of the women in the world, and you ended up with me?”

“Because not only are you beautiful, but you’re so smart too,” he said, “Why did you ask me?”

“ _No sé_ ,“ I said telling him I didn’t know.

“I knew I loved you because I think you’re beautiful even when your hair is tied up and you’re wearing a huge t-shirt. I never really felt that way about any of the other girls. You’re beautiful to me all the time,  _coraçao_. And I like that you’re different. You like making fun of me too. And you’re not easy like the others and I love that. We’re not perfect, we sometimes do our own thing, and it just works.”

“Ok,” I said, exhaling and closing my eyes. I believed him, but sometimes I needed to hear him tell me these things. The articles I read today had me second-guessing—I couldn’t let the press get to me. I worked in the press, but it was always different when it was about me.

“Relax,” he said kissing my forehead, “You’re so tense _, meu Deus_.”

He moved down to my lips, and kissed me more lightly than usual. I held on to his lower lip. In my head my emotions were confused. I couldn’t tell if I was excited or about to cry. I needed to be distracted, and hopefully being with Cristiano would fill this void. I let him kiss me again, holding my arms against his neck. His skin felt cool against my warm hands. We continued kissing as he put his hands under my shirt, loosening the back of my bra. He was lucky tonight because I still had on the strapless one from work this morning. Usually it took him a little while to figure out how to take it off—since I wasn’t easy. I didn’t let him get all of me so quickly. His fingers glossed over my body as he continued to kiss me. I felt my heartbeat begin to race.

His hands continued to move down my body until he reached my shorts. He slipped them down my legs with ease. I was trying to guess in my head what he would do next. “Tell me what you want,” He whispered in my ear.

“Surprise me,” I said back, all of a sudden wanting him to hurry up.

“Ok,” I could feel his hands on my sides again, moving the pink material that were a pair of Agent Provocateur out of the way. He threw them on the ground with one hand and began touching me  _there_  with the other. He started slowly, it was killing me, him being a tease for once, “It’s a lot easier when you’re naked.”

I couldn’t say anything back because I was too busy trying not start being noisy. It was too soon. This game we played was a little ridiculous, but I always liked winning. Who could be quietest the longest? We had both been acting so miserable recently that there had been no good time for  _this_  kind of time, and I had predicted that it would take me about two seconds to scream in his ear from just the thought of him touching me.

“Leah,” He said, moving his body over me as he continued moving his fingers.

Each touch. I was absolutely dying from trying to stay silent. All of the tension, the stress, the headache from the day was going away.

More, please, now, I thought closing my eyes and biting my lip to stay quiet. I knew he understood what I was trying to do at this point as he kissed me.

“You have to let me know if it’s good enough for you. I know that you’re picky,” He continued.

“You win.” I whispered.

“I can’t hear you.” He grinned.

“Hurry up and finish what you started,” I was impatient, “Now, now, now.”

“Louder,” Now he was teasing me, holding onto my hips, “Or else nothing.”

“I can’t get louder unless you start—”

No warning, no anything, he entered me and it hurt, but I guess it’s what I was asking for. I wanted him quickly, and this meant he’d be rough—but I was growing to like it that way. A couple of unexplainable bruises were fine. I felt his grip grow tighter on my sides with every move. “Tell me you want more, he said, breathing heavily.

“I shouldn’t have to,” I said smartly.

“Really? We’ll see.” He began to move harder.

 I was becoming more and more excited. He really was trying to impress me today, and it was working. A little while later between the kisses, the movement, and even a few bites between the both of us we finished together.

“You are fucking amazing,” I said, out of breath, allowing him to kiss me again.

“As are you. We’re a good team.”

“Actually, I think I’m pretty great,” I kissed the tip of his nose, “But you could use some work.”

“Whatever. You know that you liked it.”

“You caught me. I did. And I like you too. You know what else I’d like?”

“What?”

“To go to bed. It’s late. I know I’m irresistible, but get off of me and give me my shirt back so I can sleep.”

“Leah, we can do it one more time,” he whined, “You know you want to.”

I did.

And we did.

Good thing I didn’t have work the next morning or else I would have been really late.


	11. Chapter 11

“Do you even love him?”

I felt loaded down, carrying my massive work bag on my shoulder. I had to cover the press conference tonight instead of enjoying the event on the arm of Cristiano. Neither of us was happy about this, but I was a workingwoman. This was part of living my dream. I had made plenty of sacrifices for Cris, so he could survive one event without me by his side every minute. I had spent extra time tonight trying to look cute—the last thing I needed was an ugly picture of me on the cover of a glossy magazine. Besides, the cuter I looked, the more the footballers usually wanted to answer my sometimes annoying questions. I recognized the voice immediately. I didn’t want to turn around until I heard him speak again.

“Do you even love him?”

I paused from my fast paced walk to see two blue curious eyes gazing in my direction. He was tall, thin, handsome, neatly shaved—and what do you know, someone who usually wore red and blue. Why did I have to cover this dinner? Why was he here, in my territory? At this instant, I wished that I called in sick. “What do you mean?” I said, glancing at the ring that glittered as I moved my fingers.

“You just never look happy anymore. Where is he tonight anyway?”

“I’m happy—I’m just frustrated. You know that he’s here.”

“Leah, you deserve better.”

“I’m very comfortable, thank you. I’m just going to go now, ok?”

“Díos, Leah, I’m only here tonight. Can we go and chat? Just as friends? Or do you have to spend every moment with him now? Does he have you under contract?”

“One drink, Piqué.” I couldn’t resist. Plus, I had to show him that I was still my own woman. I could choose what I wanted to do, including spending some time with him. I was not under Cristiano’s control by any means. 

“Perfect. I know that your Catalán is rusty anyway.”

“I’ve missed you.” I said quietly, not allowing him to hug me. I said it so softly, I was surprised that he even heard me. 

“Does he even know about us?”

“About what we were?” I emphasized, “Past tense.”

“We can still be friends, Leah. Besides let me carry that bag for you. I know you can carry it yourself, but here.”

He swung the bag over his shoulder effortlessly. He was dressed perfectly in a black suit and blue tie that matched his eyes. “We have a lot to catch up on,” I said, letting my front disappear. Who was I kidding? What woman couldn’t fall instantly for him; especially with those eyes I had missed. 

“I know, pues, where can we go? It’s your city, so–” He wanted to take my hand and he saw the ring—the diamonds sparkling in the light, “Oh, I suppose we do have a lot to catch up on.”

“Where can we go that’s private—besides, you’re going to make me late for this press conference. Shouldn’t you be there anyway? And how can I tell Cris I’m hanging out with you?”

“Just tell him you’re meeting up with me. As friends.”

“It’s not that easy—"I said, considering under jealous type in the dictionary, Cristiano’s picture would definitely be there, “I’ll figure it out. I’ll text you when I’m done with work and we’ll find a place to go. Where are you staying?”

“The Ritz Carlton by the Reina Sofía.”

“OK. Let me work. I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll meet you outside, yeah?” he said, giving my bag back to me when we reached the conference room, “See you later. I can’t wait.”

I immediately knew that I was in a lot of trouble.

* * *

With cameras following my every move in the past few weeks, I decided to go back to the Ritz with Gerard. We would have a drink, chat, and that would be it. I hung out with other guys all the time and this was no different. This is at least what I told myself in my head the entire cab ride to the hotel. I stood on the opposite side of the elevator as he looked at his vibrating phone and slid it back into his pocket. “Your novia?” I asked, seeing if it was a girlfriend I didn’t know about. As much as I hated gossip magazines, I found myself picking up the ones that had stories about him. 

            “I don’t know if you can call her that.” He said looking away.

            “Why not?”

            “It’s not serious.”

“Come on. You’re not seeing anyone?“

            “I haven’t seen her in a couple weeks and she’s been calling me every day. I don’t like her that way.”

            I rolled my eyes. “You guys are all the same.”

            We walked off the elevator. His hand brushed against mine.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Football players. You guys can have any women in the world, and always end up with the most awful, shallow ones. Like all the women Cris was with before? And some of my friends on the team now—I wish I could tell them how horrible these women are.”

            “Why do you think so many of us like you then?”

            “Piqué, you know that’s not true. Is this your room?” I wanted to change the subject quickly. Compliments were not going to work.

            “Second door on the left.” 

            He was staying in an unnecessarily large suite, Cristiano style. I concluded that all football players were the same: flashy and excessive. I immediately took off my shoes and left them by the door. My feet were aching from wearing my favorites: the shoes with the gold heels. “Where are the other guys?” I asked walking deeper into the living space. It was equipped with a large, sleek black bar, gold couches, and a flat screen television. It looked like the perfect spot for a party. I wanted to dance, but I was pretty exhausted from a full day’s work.

            “They’re staying here too. I told them I had an old friend in Madrid that I wanted to see so I would maybe join them later.”

            “That’s exactly what I told Cris. I promised you one drink, chatting, and that’s it Piqué.” I liked calling him by his surname, well one of them. 

            “You haven’t changed at all—you’re so stubborn.” He smiled, “Sit down. I’ll order us something up to drink.”

            “I can pick out something.”

            “I already know what you want: vino tinto or sangria, but not too strong.” 

            “You got me.” Was I that predictable? Cristiano would also do the same thing, jokingly ordering my meals all the way to the dessert I would want.

            “You look hungry too. I’m going to order some stuff if you want anything.

            “You’re always so hungry,  _Díos_. And I do want the sangria, thank you.”

            After he ordered room service, he sat next to me on the couch, removed his tie, and placed it on the coffee table.

            “How do you know?”

            “How do I know what?”

            “Is it true that other players talk about me—that they want me? I don’t understand.”

            “You’re different than the other girls. You’re beautiful yes, but you’re smart too. You have your own career, own success, and a lot of guys like that.”

            “I’ve always found it the other way around. And it’s so different for me here than it was at home. No one really paid any attention to me in America.”

            “They’re silly. You’re beautiful, Leah.”

            “ _Grácies_.”

            “Trying to impress me with Catalán? You’re good,” He smiled, and I looked into his blue eyes. I wasn’t going to fall for the eyes. They were welcoming, warm, and inviting, “Look at you though.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I don’t know how you could ever doubt how beautiful you are.”

            There was a knock on the door. Room service saved me. “You should go into the bedroom, just in case, ok?”

            I quickly got up and went into the room. It looked like all of the other hotel suites I stayed in with Cristiano. I could hear Gerard talking to the girl at the door. She was blabbering away, super excited and shocked to see him in Madrid. I saw his overnight bag in the middle of the bed. I was nosy, and looked inside to see nothing too interesting. He had a few t-shirts, shorts, and his iPad sitting at the top. I could never imagine packing a bag so small. This was what I considered to be my shoe bag. Then again, he was only here for a night. I was sick of my dress and wanted to put on something more comfortable. I saw one of his Barça t-shirts at the bottom. It was mine, I decided. I began to unzip the side of my dress and I heard a low voice behind me. “Need any help?”

            “No, I’m fine, thank you. Don’t look.”

            “You’re looking through my bag, so I can look at you.”

            “Can I borrow this?” I picked up the shirt, outlining the crest in the corner with my fingers. This situation was becoming more wrong as it progressed. I felt like I was betraying Cristiano for even thinking about putting on anything reminiscent of the  _blaugrana_. He shrugged his shoulders.

            “What are you going to do with it?”

            “I’ve been in a dress and heels all day. I just want to relax for a little and be comfortable, if that’s fine with you. I wasn’t planning on running into you, and hanging out with you tonight, so I didn’t bring any extra clothes. I was going to go home, cuddle with my puppy, and watch awful television.“

            “You don’t need any extra clothes, Leah. And we can watch as much TV as you want here,” He smiled deviously.

            “ _Puta_.”

            “I’ve been called worse,  _mujer_.”

            “Don’t look.Close your eyes.“

            He put his hands over his eyes as I slipped my turquoise and gold dress off. It was just me in my underwear for a few seconds when I looked back to see if he was peeking. He was. I could see the blue of his eyes seeping through his fingers. I covered myself. “Gerard Piqué.” First and last name.

            “ _Si_?” He dropped his hands.

            “You’re looking.”

            “ _Díos_. What did you expect me to do?”

            I put his shirt over my head. I was tall, but his t-shirt fit me like a dress. “Not look. Plus, this shirt is ugly.“

            “Lies. I should take a picture of you right now.”

            “Me in the  _blaugrana_ , are you kidding? Especially in a Piqué shirt, I don’t think so. My sangria is waiting for me. Come on.”

            I walked back into the front room and sat on the couch in front of the table now covered with our drinks and what looked like a million tapas. Gerard followed, and sat right next to me. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said pouring sangria into one of the glasses, “I feel like I don’t know what you’ve been up to these days.”

            “I wish it was easier to keep in touch with you.”

            “Does he know what happened between us?”

            “No, not really. He knows I’m friends with you and I know that he doesn’t like it at all.”

            “Are you ever going to tell him?”

            “No, I don’t think so—especially because we only kind of saw each other when I was in college. I’m sure there are plenty of things I don’t know, or want to know about Cristiano. Me having a short-lived fling with you isn’t the most important thing in the world.”

            “It was more than that, Leah.”

            “Ok, so we kind-of dated for a little while. We were friends first. You weren’t that cute then anyway. We’re still friends, no big.”

            “There’s something about him I don’t like though. I don’t know what it is, but it just doesn’t seem like he’s right for you.”

            “Ger, I think he’s right for me.”

            “Really though. You think that I don’t read the articles in the papers, see the pictures of you two. It’s like you’re sad all the time, especially after the  _Copa_.”

            I took a large gulp of my sangria. I knew I was going to go over my one drink an and go home limit quickly. He continued to talk, “I’m sorry Leah. It’s just that as your friend I care about you very much. If he’s not treating you right, that hurts me, and it’s not ok.”

            “Cris and I are fine. There are a few things I would like to change, but they’re out of my hands right now.”

            “One more question, and then you can ask me.”

            “Yes?” I took another sip. Perhaps I should have ordered something stronger.

            “I heard, team gossip, that he has a mystery baby. Is that true?”

            “Who told you that?”

            “Some of the guys that play for Real were talking about it.”

            “Promise not to tell anyone, not a soul, or else I will never, ever speak to you again and leak some of the photos I have of you online.”

            “Promise.”

            “It’s true. It’s one of the reasons why I’m not so happy right now. He found out the morning after the  _Copa_ , after we were engaged for not too long and I practically moved in. Everything was perfect and then this ruined everything.“  

             “Please don’t cry—”

            I felt my eyes burning, the tears forming causing my mascara to drip down the sides of my face. “It’s just that everything was perfect. I had the perfect job, perfect man, the life I thought I wanted and then Eva calls me and says he has a baby by a British girl. What could I do? I could get over the rumors about other women, even a few men, but a baby? It’s not like he can go away. And the poor thing is miserable. He cries all the time. I can’t sleep. I told Cris I might have to move back into my apartment. He didn’t talk to me for a couple days. Everything was perfect. I love him so much, but I want to go back to how we were.”

            “It’s that bad?”

            I had finished my sangria in record time. “Yes. The Mum left him with for now. I don’t think she wants him anymore to be honest.”

            “Díos mio—really?” He poured me more wine, “I don’t understand sometimes.”

            “What?”

            “Women–never mind. Come here,” He put the glass on the table and held me close, “I can tell that you like him because you’re so upset right now. He’s lucky to have found someone who loves him like you do.  _No te preocupes,_ everything will be fine.”

            “Tell me about your life.”

            “I work a lot as you know. Anyway, after my last serious girlfriend nothing has worked at all. There have been a number of horrible women after her. They’re just pretty. Like the one that called me, her name is Elena. Gorgeous but I’m bored with her. She’s so empty.”

            I looked at my ring, “You must not be looking in the right places.”

            “I’m not. Lots of women hate you, you know,” He changed the conversation back to me.

            “For dating Cristiano or for drinking sangria with you?” I felt my body relax against his. I felt safe within his embrace.

            “Both. I mean, he’s probably more exciting than me. I’m guessing offensive players are probably more exciting than defensive ones.

            I laughed a little, “I don’t even know what that means.”

            I was now leaning against his chest, my legs curled up on the side of the couch. “I don’t know either to be honest,” he said adjusting his arm around my body, “I have a secret for you too since we’re sharing.”

            “Si?” I said, feeling his heart beat quickly.

            “If it wasn’t for that ring on your finger, I would have kissed you by now.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

I had briefly dated Gerard—briefly. The more I thought about it, the more bizarre it was. Both he and Cristiano played for Manchester United at the same time, but I had avoided having any real contact with the latter. One moved to Spain a year prior than the other. I happened to meet Gerard while studying abroad in Manchester while I was in college. I met Cristiano in Madrid later on when I was working as an intern.

Gerard and I were a short term, awkward couple. He was playing on the reserve team, I was studying abroad, and it was all fun. He was tall, gorgeous, and spoke Spanish and Catalán, which fascinated me. I spent the second half of my year in Spain and interned in Barcelona in the summer. I was happy to find someone who could help me learn a little bit of the language I found to be so beautiful.

We never said we were officially dating, but we were somewhat exclusive. I went into the relationship viewing it as my study abroad fling. In the end, he would continue to play football in Europe, and I would move back to America to finish school. We promised to keep in touch after I returned, but just as friends. I often thought about him after I went home, but put aside the possibility of anything happening between us again. I didn’t even consider that he would become one of the most popular and successful defensive players in the world. There I was, on the arm of this guy for an entire year, mingling with his teammates and friends, without even really realizing who these men would become. I remembered the trips to London to visit his best friend, Cesc, and how adorable the two were together. I remembered him taking me to Barcelona, showing me his favorite café’s and secret non-tourist spots. I loved my time with him, but I decided to close that chapter of my life once I left Europe the first time. We kept in touch in the beginning, but after I started dating Cristiano things began to feel a little weird. I wanted more distance so the feelings wouldn’t return, they wouldn’t return like they were right in this moment. 

I quickly realized why I needed space from him. It was far too comfortable. I was on my third glass of sangria and felt myself relax more and more against his body. I am a lightweight with alcohol, and should have stopped after the first glass—not to mention that I already had a  _copa_  or two at the dinner. I didn’t really drink much, which was fine because Cristiano didn’t drink at all. Tonight, however, was different.

“What do you think would have happened if I never left Manchester?” I said, cuddled against him.

“What?” He said, his arm around my body.

“Like, if I stayed with you and finished school in Manchester.”

“ _No sé_.” He said, saying he didn’t know.

“Would we still be together?” I got up and looked directly into his blue eyes.

“ _Díos_ , Leah, I don’t know.”

“Can I tell you a secret? It’s my turn.”

“Of course.”

His eyes looked inviting, as usual. I had been resisting him so long, but I couldn’t anymore. That’s when I decided to do it; I blame the excessive amount of Spanish wine. I kissed Gerard, wearing his Barça t-shirt in the middle of his hotel room in the Ritz Carlton in Madrid by the Reina Sofía. It was wrong, but it was something that I needed to do. It felt right at the time; it was what I needed.

He blankly looked at me. “Leah.”

“Yes”

“What happened?“

“I don’t know. I just want you to kiss me back. Please.”

He exhaled, and kissed me lightly. I felt the stubble from his chin brush across my face. Kissing him was different than Cristiano. We had fallen into a routine, especially due to his recent drama. This feeling reminded me of my first love—he was my first love, the boy I had left behind in Manchester, who I never thought I’d ever feel this way about again. But here I was, in his embrace wanting more of him as every second passed by.

Our kisses continued, becoming more and more intense between giggles, heavy breathing, sips of wine and an assortment of phrases in Spanish, English, and Catalan. I was straddled across his lap, his hands feeling my hips. His fingers traced across the pesky hip bones that protruded on my sides, right above the line of my underwear. His hands moved up until he moved the shirt over my head and put it on the floor.

I was now nearly naked on his lap, feeling myself grow more excited by the minute. I began to unbutton his oxford. I didn’t want to be the only person undressed. It was all happening so quickly, I wasn’t thinking at all. He kissed my neck, and continued to move down my body. I let him take control of the situation, as I wanted him even more. I couldn’t stop myself from becoming extremely excited as the kisses continued. He must have sensed what I needed because I felt him begin to touch me gently. “Already?” He whispered, continuing to move up and down eventually allowing his fingers slowly slide inside me.

I closed my eyes, whimpering with every stroke. I didn’t want him to stop. There was a gentleness of his movement that I hadn’t felt for a long time. He was taking his time, making sure that I was being satisfied; he didn’t even have to ask me. Clearly he was feeling pretty good too, I could feel him begin to grow hard against my leg through the material of his pants. “Already?” I said, mocking him.

“ _Qué_?”

“Am I making you excited?”

“What type of question is that?”

“I can feel you—” I touched him, causing him to moan a little.

“I promise you I’m fine, if you stopped–”

“Come on, let me,” I felt inside, moving my hand a few times slowly, forgetting how large he actually was. We continued for a little; I liked being a tease. He was completely hard, so I decided to let go, leaving him waiting. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling quickly against mine.

“ _Díos_.” I said, looking down at him and trying to figure out who was larger in my head.

“What is it this time?” He kissed me again.

“You.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not done. Remember, I’m a little experienced with your type now.”

“ _Eh, no—_ I’m fine–it’s just that I can tell something’s wrong with you.”

“I promise you I’m fine, we should just–”

“Are you sure? There are tears. Stop. I can’t anymore.”

I needed to learn how to hide my emotions from being clearly exposed on my face. I felt my eyes begin to burn, but passed it as nothing. I was a little overwhelmed, but I wasn’t sure why. Then he spoke again, “Yes, you’re crying, Leah,  _no necesitamos—_ we can’t. I cannot do this.”

“I know,” the tears exploded at this point. Hysterical Leah had entered the building.  “What am I fucking doing?”

“It’s my fault,” He picked the shirt up from the floor and slid It back onto my body, “Avoiding you would have been the best thing to do. I understand if you don’t ever want to talk to me again. I can get you home now.”

“No, it’s not only your fault.”

“It is—don’t feel guilty. I should have never told you earlier.”

“But I—I was feeling the same way. It’s so different when I’m with you. The moment I saw you, it was just how it was five years ago. The same butterflies, same nervous excitement—this is why I never want to be with you alone. Because I knew something like this would happen. I should have told you. Fuck. I’m just like all the others. Horrible. Absolutely horrible.“

“You’re not,” his eyes were sad, “It’s my fault, I’m sorry. We had unfinished business, and this was probably the absolute worst time to finish it.”

“What is Cris going to think?”

“He doesn’t have to know. One mistake. He’s a guy, I’m sure he’s made a few mistakes too. Stop freaking out.”

“But—”

“I’m getting you home, and we’ll talk later after this all settles down.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“I can’t, Leah. I can’t be the only other person in the room with you right now.”

“Why?”

“We were  _this close_ , I can’t be that guy, I just can’t. You know when you left Manchester and we decided to keep in touch just as friends?”

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t think of you as just a friend. I still loved you, and I still love you now. But it’s too late, and I just cannot be responsible of ruining something for you. If you’re happy, I’m happy for you. Promise me you’re not lying when you say you’re happy with him.”

“I’m happy.” Most of the time, I should have added. 

“Leah, we can’t be together like this anymore. It’s too risky.”

“It’s not just your fault. It’s not like I don’t think about you too. Why do you think I don’t want to interview you in a couple weeks? I can’t be with you alone either. It’s not just you,“ I was still a mess and sobbing between words, "I left and I lied to you. I thought about you all the time when I went back, not just as friends. When I came back, I didn’t expect to meet Cris or fall in love with him or anything that has happened to me in the past three years. It’s been so crazy. Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing. So not only am I a liar, but I am crazy too.”

“It’s not supposed to make sense. I missed that about you. You always try to make everything work together logically, but sometimes it just can’t be like that. You’re such a perfectionist.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that things happen for a reason—like we were supposed to run into each other alone tonight. All of this was supposed to happen so that we would finally talk. We could finally have the conversation that never happened when you left.”

“But—I just see it now. There’s going to be a picture of me on the cover of some trashy magazine with you walking in here. It’s just another layer of drama to my extremely fucked up life right now.”

“You can’t have friends now?”

“Friends don’t walk into the Ritz Carlton by the Reina Sofia at 2 in the morning together. Especially friends who used to date—friends who are still attracted to each other in _that way_.” I just admitted to myself that I had never really gotten rid of my feelings for Gerard Piqué. This was a mess. 

“Leah, I won’t talk about it if you don’t. We were caught in the moment.”

“It’s not about the talking, it’s about the me thinking about you until the next time I see you. It’s about you touching me again. It’s about feeling how I did when I was twenty in Manchester and you sneaking into my flat when my roommates weren’t around. It’s like since we never actually  _did it_  like that, there’s a big hole in that chapter when we were  _us_  and we keep running in circles trying to make it happen. I knew that I couldn’t avoid you for long.” 

“Maybe it’s best if we don’t talk for a little while, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want, that’s the problem. I don’t talk to you, and I was two seconds away from having your babies. I do talk to you, and probably the same thing. How could I explain a blue eyed, very brown baby to Cristiano? Wouldn’t work. “

He looked at me blankly.

"Sorry.” I finished. The things that run through my head sometimes. It’s even worse when I allow them to come out of my mouth. 

“Look. If we’re in the magazines, so what—we’re friends. That’s our story. The intent was to just hang out away from the public eye. If you want to talk, you know how to reach me. If you don’t, it will kill me, but I understand. Let me get you home so you can sleep and we can put this behind us.”

“I can go home in the morning. It’s late. He’s not looking for me anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please, I just need to sleep. I can take the couch.”

“No, you take the bed, I can sleep here. I’m fine. I can sleep anywhere.”

“Can we both take the bed? No cuddling, no thinking about cuddling, no touching, whispering–“

“Leah, stop, please. Nothing. Promise. For real. I’m never having a drink with you again.”

“Ger, we’re in so much trouble. It’s ridiculous.“

"Tell me about it.”


	13. Chapter 13

I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing crazily next to my head and the worst headache ever. The vibration felt like something steadily crashing into the side of my face over and over and over. The moment I walked into the house at 11 this morning, I crawled into bed, hoping to not wake up until it was time for dinner at 10. There was no initial sign of Cristiano. I assumed he was out. I stuffed the Barça shirt in bottom my work bag, and groggily stumbled in leaving my heels by the door. I was back in my dress, hair messy and wanted nothing more than to sleep solidly for ten hours.

 

I looked for Cristiano in the obvious places, and he wasn’t there. I hadn’t received a phone call from him nor any text messages. I didn’t think about it anymore and fell into the deepest sleep of my life. When my phone started ringing, I was very close to throwing it against the wall. I looked at the screen to see it was a call from not Cristiano, but Gerard Piqué. I pressed talk, and heard him rambling in Catalán on the other side. “ _Hola_?” I said a couple times.

            “Sorry,” he finally said, “ _Hola nena._ How are you? Is he there?“

            “I’m fine and alone, thank you–where are you?" 

“Barcelona. I wanted to make sure you were okay and apologize to you again.”

            “Don’t worry about it. Where are you heading now?”

            “Home. I’m going to sleep and then hang out with Cesc. Do some guy stuff.”

            “Hang out with your  _novio_?”

            “He’s not—why do you think that? We’re best friends, Leah.”

            “If he was your boyfriend my life would be so much easier. We wouldn’t be in so much trouble.”

            “I don’t mind being in trouble as long as it’s with you. I miss you already.”

             _“_ But I have to go,“ he said rushed. I don’t know what was going on on the other end, especially because my head hurt so much. I liked hearing his voice, it was soothing. I was a little upset that the phone call was so brief, "So I’ll talk to you later, okay? Ciao y besos, Leah.”

            I fell back asleep with a smile. A few hours later, I felt a kiss on my forehead, and heard the sound of my dog, Kai panting next to my bed. Our bedroom was usually a dog free zone, but there he was, sitting in front of Cristiano. “ _Hola coraçao_ ,” he said, sweaty and dressed in work out clothes. He and Kai must have gotten back from a run.

            “Where have you been all day and last night?” I said, my eyes still half closed.

            “I was at Sergio’s place after the dinner all night, woke up late this morning, and came back to find you sleeping here already. Where were you?”

            “Hanging out with an old friend. Nothing too exciting.”

            “Was it him?” He pulled out his phone from his pocket to show me a picture of Gerard and I at the dinner last night, looking quite cozy. We had posed for the camera—they caught us mid discussion after the press conference I covered. It wasn’t like there weren’t a million pictures of Cris and I from the same night too.

            “Yeah—Cris, you know that we’re good friends. You promised you wouldn’t be jealous of my guy friends, and you promised you wouldn’t get mad about me spending time with them. I haven’t seen Gerard for months. I’ve been trapped between work, the Bernabéu, and preschool.”

            “Do you know what they’re going to assume with this picture?” He said, ignoring most of what I said.

            “I thought you didn’t read the gossip magazines.”

            “I try not to—but now they’ve been writing about you. Now they’re going to write about you and  _him_.”

            “What could they write about me and Piqué anyway?” Then I gasped, “Oh no.”

            “What?”

            “Nothing. I’m just tired and hung-over. My head hurts, my body hurts, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

            “Do you know what the guys think?”

            “No, what do they think?”

            “They think that he likes you, like for real. Like he wants you.”

            “Why on earth were you talking about me, and why would anyone else want me? Why do you even want me? You guys gossip like little girls.”

            “No, really though. I asked Sergio what he knew about him and you.”

            “Why didn’t you ask me?”

            “Because you know how you are. Anyhow, he said that Piqué talks about you all the time.”

            “In what way?”

            “Like he’s said how lucky I am to have you, and that I’m not deserving to have someone like you. He says that he thinks you’re beautiful.”

            “You realize that’s the exact thing that Maricarmen, Carolina, or Ellie would say to you, right? He’s one of my closest friends, so he’s being protective of me, that’s all. And he’s talking to someone anyway. I could never like him  _like that_ ,” I paused because I was lying and an absolutely awful liar, “I think that someone’s feeling a little jealous of not having all the attention all the time.”

            “It’s not about that, it’s about someone else wanting you when you belong to me.”

            “Cris, I don’t belong to anyone. I love you, yes, but I am my own woman.”

            “You can be your own woman without spending time alone with men who are attracted to you. I’m just looking out for you.”

            “Why are you threatened by him? It’s one picture. I don’t ever get to see him because this is how you get. Everything I’ve sacrificed for you, and you’re worked up over a photo of me and another guy?”

            “Because I don’t want to lose you, Leah. I don’t want to lose you. I know we’re hanging on a few very fragile strings right now after the whole Connor thing. I haven’t seen you smile like that for months. Do you know how it feels to see this? That I don’t know how to make you smile anymore, but someone else does? I feel like shit because I can’t make you happy. You’re miserable here.”

            Kai began to bark, I rubbed the top of his head to avoid eye contact with Cristiano. I really needed to work on hiding my emotions from my face. My eyes were burning again—here were the mix of overwhelming emotions. I wanted to pack a suitcase and hop on the first flight to Barcelona, but I also wanted to cry into Cristiano’s arms to feel his comfortable embrace. He sat down beside me, “You’re crying,” he said, taking my hand, “I’m so, so sorry coraçao, it’s just, I don’t know–you know I’m a jealous person and I get very possessive—I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry.”

            “No, Cris—it’s me, I’ve been feeling very overwhelmed lately, I just don’t know. There are a million ideas running through my head. I need a break.”

            “Wait. What do you mean?”

            “Like I need to get away from Madrid, from work, fútbol, everything.”

            “Everything?”

            “No, no, no,” I was now in hysterical tears, “Not like that, Cristiano, I love you so, so much. No—I just need a vacation. _Díos_ , is that what you want?”

            “No.  _Coraçao_ , I want us to be more transparent, I want us to spend more time together, I want you to be comfortable with telling me things and for you to not feel trapped here. Where do you want to go? We can go right now.”

            “I’m being extra whiny, I don’t want to be the reason why you’re not playing well. This is why I don’t really drink, see what happens?”

            “I like it when you move your nose like that when you’re upset,” he tried to lighten the mood, moving my hand up to his for a kiss, “Leah, if you need a few days away, that’s what we can do. If you want to go alone, that’s fine as well. Take one of your girlfriends. I like Carolina, except she drinks too much. Or Maricarmen, she’s fun too.”

            I smiled a little, thinking of the last time Carolina was at our house and consumed far too much of the expensive wine that Cristiano received as presents. I thought that by now people would realize that he didn’t drink, but we had a fully stocked mini wine cellar for hosting purposes.

            “She doesn’t drink  _that_ much…okay she does. I’ll call her or Mari to see if one of them is free.”

            “Let’s make a deal,  _vale_? After your vacation, we’re going to get past the curse of the  _Copa_  and we’re going to try to be us again.”

            “Kiss on it?”

            He leaned in and kissed my lips. They were unusually soft today, and he tasted minty. I wasn’t finished speaking before I let him kiss me again, “Cristiano, stop blaming yourself on everything, it’s me too. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done too.”

            “It’s like a new chapter,” he said, “Start over. Yesterday never happened.“

            We kissed again, and I let him hold me tight, regardless of how sweaty he was. His arms made me feel safe. I was able to release a lot of the tension that had been growing inside me since the previous April. The alternate methods of release weren’t working—the acting bitter, hooking up with my ex-boyfriend, even the make-up sex didn’t do it. Right now all I wanted to do was join him in the shower—but I couldn’t. After my very close encounter with Gerard I felt like I couldn’t sleep with Cristiano—not quite yet. I wanted to clean myself of everything that happened the night before. I wasn’t sure how, especially with two dark brown eyes staring into mine. I couldn’t give into him quite yet. It was like he could read my mind this particular moment. “I’ll run you a bubble bath so you can spend some quality time with your Kindle, and after  _café bombón_ and your awful American television.”

            “You hate my shows. Let’s play Playstation instead. I’m going to beat you today.”

            “Oh yeah? In your dreams,” he kissed my forehead, “I don’t tell you enough how much I love you.  _Te amo_.”

            I couldn’t believe how close I was to ruining what I had—what I was so lucky to have.

            “I love you so much too. You don’t even understand.”


	14. Chapter 14

_Coraçao, I hope you’re enjoying your trip. Te amo. (And do you think Maricarmen will mind if join you the last day, I really need you in that way, like it’s killing me.) Y Connor dice ‘Hola Leah’ también. Besos. C._

“Can he not message you for an entire day?” Maricarmen said, between a long sip of coffee and bite of her toast. I needed to get away from Madrid, but I didn’t want to go too far. I settled on a few days on the coast of Andalucía in Cadíz. The Canaries reminded me too much of Madiera, Cristiano’s Portuguese island home, and it wasn’t the right season for Ibiza. I loved Andalucía, and Madrid played Sevilla that weekend. I would go to the beach, eat lots of flamenquín and salmorejo, and gossip with Maricarmen for a few days. I had a lot to tell her, and besides she owed me a ton.

 I had set her up on a date with her current football crush, Sergio Ramos, even though I didn’t understand why she was so attracted to him. He always reminded me of a horse, and his long hair did nothing for me. Carolina told me I liked pretty boys, and she didn’t understand that. I needed to grow up and find real men, rugged Andalucian men like she liked. She had grown up in Malaga on the opposite coast of the state and went to Madrid for school, never returning other than for holidays and vacations. I was so happy to find her when I moved here. She was fluent in English, and her accent was an awkward hybrid of British and Caribbean. We were interns together and clicked. In Spain, she was my best girl friend and spent many a night in the  _palacio_  while Cristiano was out of town.

            “Let me see,” she continued, taking the phone from my hand, “What is he supposed to be doing today anyway?”

            “He has training today, twice.”           

            “Why did you randomly decide to take this trip anyway?”

            “I have so much gossip for you—I had to tell you in person away from Madrid and everything that goes on there. I needed a little café in Cadiz with three other people in it and a piece of  _tocino del cielo_  to tell you. And I was feeling overwhelmed by everything at home and at work.”

            “ _Estás embarazada_?” She whispered, eyes widened across her face, asking me if I was pregnant. 

            “ _Dios mío—_ no, no, no, I hope not, oh my God, no. It’s not like that, Mari, Oh my God no. ”

            “Does he have another baby?”

            “No, it’s not that either.”

            “What is it?”

            “So, you know how Gerard Piqué and I kind-of dated in college?”

            “ _Si—_ keep going.”

“And you know how there was the charity dinner a couple weeks ago with all of the footballers?”

            “Yes?”

            “I ran into him after avoiding him for a few months—and we hung out after the dinner and kind-of hooked up.”

            “What do you mean by kind-of hooked up?”

            “Like we kind-of, almost went all the way.”

            “Leah, I cannot believe this, you what?”

            “I had a little too much wine—it turned into a little more than kissing until I almost had a nervous breakdown.”

            “Don’t you need to interview him in like a week?”

            “That’s the problem; I don’t know if I can be close to him again. Cristiano and I are supposed to be working on making our relationship better. We had fallen into a routine and grew a little apart with the whole Connor fiasco. It just hasn’t felt right at home in a while.”

            “Have you spoken to Piqué?”

            “He sends me messages.”

            “And do you answer?”

            “Sometimes,” I felt my phone buzz, “I bet you that’s him right now. He slipped and called me  _nena_. He hasn’t called me that in forever.”

            “Give me,” Carmen took my phone and a smile came across her face. At that moment, the waitress brought my  _tocino del cielo_  and café con leche and Carmen’s café bombon and pastel Cordobés. I stuffed an unusually large piece in my mouth. I hadn’t had dessert, my favorite part of the meal, for a week to make sure I could fit into the dress I needed to wear for the dinner the week before. I could have eaten both my postre and Carmen’s. She read my text aloud:

             _Nena, como estás?_   _I hope that everything is fine. Can we talk soon? I’ve been thinking about you so much. I’ll talk to you soon, ok?_

“There it is again,  _nena_ ,“ I said,"He can’t call me that, it plays with my heart so much. I don’t like him  _like that anymore_.”

            “Are you sure?” said Maricarmen, stirring her coffee. 

            “Yeah—or I thought so. Like when I left Europe the first time when I was twenty-one and we promised that it was just a short time thing and we would move on. I thought about him, yes, but then I came to Spain for research again and the internship and met Cristiano—I didn’t even really think about Ger in that way for a long time. We would see each other as friends, but then once when Cris and I were really getting serious, I went to see him while I was in Barcelona. He told me how he felt, so we decided to keep some distance between us. We talked here and there, but didn’t spend much time together. I thought about it a bit, and I supposed I didn’t really get over him either. But then I put those ideas aside again because I was in love with Cristiano. Then the Copa came, and all the drama after it, and then I ran into Gerard at the charity dinner and boom! The combination of being frustrated with Cris, stressed at work, and in need of non-distracted affection hit me right in the face. I was walking to cover the press conference after enjoying the event myself with Cris and there was Mr Barça walking. He was frustrated with me because I hadn’t really been talking to him—”

            “Hold on,” said Carmen, my phone was buzzing again. She read the text.

             _I really hope that we can talk soon. There are so many things that I need to say to you. I should have told you the other night how much you mean to me, but I’m so serious when I tell you I still love you, nena.  
_

            I put my hand over my mouth. I had no words. I felt my eyes turning red. I would not cry this time. It was my easiest reaction recently. 

           “ _Cariña_ ,” said Maricarmen, taking my hand, “What is it?”

            “Why did he wait until now to tell me?” I said. “He could have told me a long time ago, like when I left Europe the first time or when I came back.”

            “How did you guys end it though?”

            “I went into it thinking it was only temporary—he was my study abroad boyfriend. He was my first boyfriend—” I paused. “Oh my goodness.”

            “What is it now?” At this point, I think she was questioning why she went on vacation with her slightly-hysterical at any second friend. 

            “Carmen, he was my first love. My first priority was finishing school. Did I think about him all the time? Yes. Did I think I would ever come back to Europe and get trapped inside the world of footballers? No.”

            “What are you trying to say?”

            “He tried to get me to stay. He asked why I couldn’t finish studying in Manchester and live with him. I told him I couldn’t, I had to go back to the states. He was mad at me for a few days, but then he stopped by and apologized for being so stubborn. He said he understood and wanted to continue as friends. He said he couldn’t hold me back from my dreams. I never gave him the chance to tell me how he really felt because I was so set on going home. And then when I came back to Spain, I avoided him like the plague. I just couldn’t see him again. It hurt too much, and then I met Cris.”

            “And so—”

            “I think him seeing my ring, the whole thing with Cristiano and him seeing that it’s real, they’re like evidence that  _we_ will never be again.”

            “Do you want my honest opinion?”

            “Why not.”

            “He still loves you, that’s the obvious thing, and that’s why he’s been going through so many useless women. I think that you still love him too. I know you don’t want to hear that, but that’s what I think,  _cariña._ Why do you get so much anxiety when you even hear his name? Don’t get me wrong, you love Cristiano, and I know it because there’s no way I would have still been with him at this point. But, deep down inside you’re still all warm and fuzzy for Gerard Piqué. You never told him how you still felt and didn’t give him the opportunity to let him tell you how he felt too.”

            “Carmen, are you taking psychology courses now?”

            “You know that’s what I studied in college. Anyhow, I think I’m quite accurate. At  _El Clásico_ , for example, I remember you were all like, Real needs to win but I hope that Piqué does well. And then you kept talking about how you missed him and wished that you were working so you could interview him just to be close to him again.”

            “I said that?”

            “You did.”

            “This is a big mess. You know I have to see him for work next week. I am dreading it so much. I want to get sick, but this interview is a huge deal, you don’t understand. Are you busy next week?”

            “I have work yes, why?”

            “I can’t go to Barcelona alone, Carmencita. Who else do I know there other than him?”

            “You know Cesc, don’t you? I would like to get to know him too.”

            “Cesc is best friends with Gerard. It’s not like I can hang out with one without the other.”

            “Have you talked to Cesc about all of this?”

            “No. I haven’t talked to anyone except for you.”

            “Hmmm, I’ll see what I can do. I might need two dates with Sergio. And can I call you  _nena_?”

            “Don’t.”

            “Or  _coraçao_? Oh, my most beautiful  _coraçao_  I need you so much tonight.“ She was now mocking me.

            “Ramos is in my phone. I will call him and tell him horrible things about you.” Threatening to mess up Mariacarmen’s date was the only thing I needed to get her in line.

            “Ok,  _mira_. What you need to do is talk to Piqué in a neutral place, not in his room at the Ritz Carlton,  _vale_? Go to a café, and tell him what you told me. Apologize that you weren’t honest with him a few years ago, but that you really want to be friends now and just friends. You might need to separate until you can both behave together. And tell him that you really love Cristiano too, because I know that you do,  _cariña_. ”

            “I miss him,” I played with my ring, “I really do love him. Carmen, why did I bring you here, you just want to make me cry, don’t you?”

            “I do love to see you cry, dear.  _No te preocupes_ , he’ll be here Saturday and you guys will have perfect post-separation sex.”

             _“_ Oh really? Good luck with you too and your blind date too.”

            “Oh  _gracias._ I don’t need your help with that one. All he has to see is me, and he will be all over this. Can we happy though right now and discuss how I will plan to make sure Sergio is all mine. I guess I can let him believe that Sevilla is better than Malaga, although we all know what town is the best.“

 

I was happy to be in the company of Maricarmen, but I knew that this whole situation would bother me the entire time at the beach. I would make this vacation work, I would make my relationship work, and I would find a way to make a friendship work with Gerard. I was determined, and I would hopefully find a way to make this all work out soon. 


	15. Chapter 15

“ _Te amo, te amo, te amo_.”

            I was squeezing Cristiano so hard. I didn’t realize how much I would miss him on my little trip with Maricarmen to Cadiz. I had a few minutes with him before he had to fly back to Madrid with the team. Maricarmen and I were flying to Madrid too, at the same time, but on a different flight. I didn’t want to let him go. We would be back together in a couple hours, but I enjoyed being in his arms. They were safe and warm and where I needed to be.

            “Leah, don’t leave me like that anymore,” he said, followed by kissing me lightly. A couple of the guys walked by and oohed.

            “They’re jealous.” I whispered to Cris, causing him to laugh.

            “Shh,” He kissed me again, “It was so lonely in that big house.”

            “How are my babies, and you?“ This time I kissed him. I was referring to my dog and Connor, of course. 

            “Good, good, and so much better because we’re together. Look at them.” He pulled out his phone to show me a picture of Connor and Kai. Connor’s arms were wrapped around Kai’s neck and he was cheesing hugely. His hair was a little curly, just like Cristiano’s when he did nothing to it. “I was going to send it to you earlier, but I know how you get. You’re always crying, so I couldn’t send it to you. I can see you now.”

            “I get like what?” I said, but I knew exactly what he was talking about.

            “What did you two do?”

            “We ate way too much, went to the beach, and talked a lot. But I missed you so, so much. What were you doing?”

            “Missing you.”

            “How much?”

            “ _Tanto_.”

More of the guys walked by as we stood together, his arms still around me. I could stay this way forever, until he decided to ask me a question. “Has he been talking to you?”

“Who?“ I knew where this was going.

“Who else?”

“There are a number of  _he’s_  that I talk to—are you talking about Gerard?”

“Yes.”

“Cristiano, I haven’t talked to him. Happy? Does that make you happy? I’ve been avoiding one of my best friends in the world to try to help make this work.” I snapped.

“Leah—it’s just—I know.“

“You talked to him? What do you know? What are you talking about?”

“Not directly. And I just do.”

“You’re spying on me? Cris, I thought we were supposed to be working on trust now and transparency, and you’re spying? I don’t even want to be around you right now.” I tried to walk away and he grabbed my arm.

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it? Cris I don’t do this to you.”

If we hadn’t been making a scene earlier, we were now. The players walking by now moved more slowly to watch the show. I caught Sergio from the corner of my eye walking by with Kaká. They had both stopped to see what was going on. I had become friends with them both while in Madrid.

“Leah—”

“I love you so much but sometimes I don’t even know why. Instead of talking to me, this is what you do.”

“It’s not spying, it’s just me being sure, and making sure everything is fine with you.”

“By spying on me?“ I was now upset, but trying not to speak too loudly, "What else have you been doing? What do you know now? Tell me. Please. I have let so many things just slip by from you, and you’re so intimidated by one person.”

“I’m not.” He said quickly. 

“Well, what’s the issue? Please explain.”

“The issue is that you’re making me look like the only bad person, Leah. I know what you did with him.”

My heart stopped. “What?”

“I’m not stupid. He set you up,  _coraçao_ , but I’m the bad guy. You fell for it. For someone so smart, you should practice hiding your feelings from your face.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I don’t even have to think, Leah. I could tell from your face. That one picture I found, the smile you had and the look in your eyes. And then you went to his room after and didn’t come back until the next day. You didn’t tell me where you were. And you weren’t up front about it after. You were acting weird the rest of that night too.”

“It wasn’t like that Cristiano. I wouldn’t do that. I felt so guilty for being alone with him that night because I know how you are.”

“What else was it then? Why would you feel guilty?”

“I did not sleep with him.” I whispered. I felt small and wanted to disappear.

“How can I even believe you, Leah? You’re just like the others. Since it’s not perfect like you want it at home, you just go and find someone else. I never thought you’d be one of those girls,” his voice was now loud, “The ones you always talk about— _una puta_ _–”_

The words cut through my heart like a piece of glass. I couldn’t respond. I could feel my eyes burn. I didn’t want to cry. All of our time together he had never called me that before. Before I could speak or hit him, or a combination of the two, I felt someone grab my arm. “Leah,  _calmate_ , come here.”

I recognized the Andalucian accent as Sergio, slowly pulling me away from Cristiano. I was breathing heavily, on the verge of hysteria, and now one of Cris’ close friends was attempting to pull me away and comfort me. Since his arms were open, I let the tears fall into his shoulder. I was quickly becoming a mess.

“ _Meu Deus_ , I didn’t mean it like that.” Said Cristiano softly, “Leah, I’m sorry, I’m sorry a million times.“

I didn’t answer him. The words were going to hurt for a while. I didn’t even want to look at him.

“Leah.” He said again. I wouldn’t turn my head. He wasn’t going to win me back that easily.

By the third Leah, I couldn’t resist not saying anything. “Do you want to know what happened? You’ve been avoiding me at home. I’ve been unhappy. I hung out with him. I drank too much wine. He told me he still liked me. There was a kiss, you caught me, you were right. Are you happy? Now everyone can know. Everyone can know. It’s just what you want. I am a fucking whore. Are you happy? Now everyone can know. Print it in the magazines and let everyone in the entire world know. They don’t want me with you anyway. I was never good enough for you Cristiano, and now you have my big mistake to get rid of me. Go back to the model you had before. That’s who they want you with anyway.”

He stood blankly looking at me. “Leah, it’s not like that. I just wasn’t thinking. It’s just all been a lot.”

“It is. You called me a  _puta_. And you meant it. It hurt.“

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Cris, you did mean it with all of your heart.”

“Leah,” said Sergio, still trying to pull me away from running towards Cristiano. I was putting up a good fight against his grip, but he wouldn’t let me go, “Shh. Calm down and breathe, por favor.”

“I didn’t mean it. Leah, I promise.“ Said Cristiano again.

 Kaká had said something to him in Portuguese and the two of them walked away. I didn’t want to see Cristiano any time soon. When I got back to Madrid, I would go somewhere else. To Maricarmen’s perhaps—but then I remembered her date with Sergio that night. Here I was, ruining someone else’s life now. I didn’t want to stay in my apartment. It was too empty, and I didn’t want everyone to know about this fight. It would be too obvious if I asked someone to stay with me. 

            “He’s gone,” said Sergio in my ear in Spanish a few minutes later, “If you want, you can stay in my place, ok? I’ll talk to Cristiano–I can’t see you upset like this. You now how he gets.”

            “I guess. Thanks.” I didn’t want to see any more men for the rest of the day, or night, or perhaps ever. Not Cristiano, not Gerard, and not even the highly tattooed Sergio Ramos. The only men in my life would be Connor, my bebe, and Kai, my perro.  

            “ _No, no,_ not that easy,” His accent was thick when he spoke English, “Leah, I know.”

            “What do you know?”

            “Piqué and I are friends, from the  _selección,_  vale.”

            “Keep talking.”

            “ _Como se dice_ —" He was searching for the right words, “He is in love with you and it kills him that you never properly ended it with him when you two were together. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, but he said that when he saw you in Madrid, he should have never asked you over. You know how he is.”

            “Can you do me a favor?”

            “Whatever you want.”

            “Can you tell Cristiano that I love him but he’s awful? And if you talk to Ger, tell him it’s not only his fault. And—be nice to Maricarmen when you go on your date. She’s the best.”

            “Okay. Can I walk you out? They won’t leave me. I’m pretty sure everyone heard you and Cris fighting.”

            “Great,” I said closing my eyes.

            “ _Vamos_ ,” He put his arm around me, “ _Mira_. You and Ronaldo will be fine. You and Piqué will be fine.  _No te preocupes_.” He told me to stop worrying.

            “Why are you being so nice to me—I mean, I know that we’re friends now and all, but isn’t this breaking some type of _hombre_  code?”

            “Don’t worry about it.”

            I sighed, and walked with Sergio to meet María Carmen on the other side. She was going to have an earful. I felt bad for her for the flight back home.

Luckily it was short…

 


	16. Chapter 16

“I know that Leah doesn’t want to talk to me, and she shouldn’t want to, but I have a couple of people who would like to see her. And I brought some of her things here  that she would want too.”

            I could hear Cristiano’s voice from Maricarmen’s guest bedroom. It was lower than usual, and his accent was thick. She and Carolina were having an intervention, and wouldn’t let me stay in the  _Palacio_  or in my old apartment. It was too weird to stay at Sergio’s, besides I wanted to give Maricarmen the chance to stay at his place if things worked out for her on her date. I had slept the night at her apartment after the fiasco in Sevilla and didn’t know how long I would be staying. I wanted to open the door, but I couldn’t look at him yet. I knew that I would immediately turn into mush and want him to hug me tightly right away. We needed a little space and time to be mad at each other so we could talk things through properly.

            “Who is this?” I could hear Maricarmen say.

            “ _Eh—este es Connor_. It’s a long story, you can ask Leah about him.” Said Cristiano.

            “ _Ay Dios mío, hola guapo._ How old are you?” She continued.

            “I’m three, and this is my dog.” Said Connor. I imagined him snuggled in Cristiano’s arms.

            And he had my Kai. I wanted to cuddle him right away.

            “ _Entonces_ , Connor has been asking about Leah since she went away, and I know that her dog misses her too. I can wait outside because I know she doesn’t want to see me.“ 

            “Will he let me take him back?” Maricarmen said.

            “Do you want to see Leah? She’s here.” He said to Connor, changing his tone of voice.

            “ _Vale_.” Said Connor. I laughed a little, hearing him catch on to this Spanishism so quickly.

            “ _Y el perro?_ ” Said Cristiano, asking if he could bring the dog in. 

            “It’s fine. I’ll ask her if she’ll come out.”

            In a couple seconds, Maricarmen opened the door to the guestroom. “You have visitors,” she said. I was a complete mess, wearing one of Cristiano’s old shirts I had taken to Cadiz and my underwear. My hair was in a ponytail at the top of my head, and I imagined my eyes were bloodshot.

            “I don’t want to see him.”

            “The baby wants to see you. I can eat him up. And the dog too.”

            “I can’t let Connor see me like this.”

            “He’s seen worse. But put yourself together. You don’t want  _el portugués_ seeing you a big mess. That will show him that he’s winning right now.”

            I could hear Carolina talking to Connor in her high-pitched voice she reserved for very small children and puppies.

            Maricarmen went into my bag from Cadiz and handed me a pair of shorts and a more fitted light blue t-shirt. She began to speak, “It shows that you were relaxed, but still cute, and not wearing a Ronaldo shirt.”

            “But it smells like him and feels like him.” I whined.

            “ _Mujer_.” She was giving me the look.

            I changed, still in my ponytail to come out of the room into the hallway. I wasn’t going to look at or speak to Cristiano, but was going to see Connor and Kai. Carolina was still babbling to Connor, impressed with how quickly he was learning Spanish. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was holding him now. He liked women for some reason—I blamed his father. “Give me the baby, and wait in the kitchen, ok?“ She said to Cristiano.

            Carmen gave me the all clear, and I walked into the living room. Kai ran up to me, greeting me with his usual hug of his paws up on my body. “Such a good puppy,” I said, hugging his head, “I missed you Kai. You’re such a good puppy. Are you taking care of  _mi_   _niño_?”

            I just called him  _mi niño_. I was definitely losing my mind more quickly than I thought.

            “ _Y mi gordi,_ I missed you,” Connor looked comfortable in Carmen’s arms, but I took him from her and covered him in a million kisses, "How are you Connor dear?”

            “Leah, why aren’t you at home?“ Connor said in his little, yet very serious voice (and in Spanish). He was dressed in an outfit I had bought him, a zip up sweater, dark wash jeans, and cute little Nikes that the three of us had. His hair was a little curly, and he was holding tight to his stuffed puppy, Rooney.

            “Because I’m not feeling too well,” I lied, “I’ll be home soon.”

            “I have a secret.“ He said.

            “What was it?” I asked pretending to be overly surprised.

            “ _Pai_ was crying.” He whispered into my ear, referring to Cristiano.

            “You should give him a big hug,  _gordi_.”

            “Why are you too?”

            I kissed Connor’s forehead. “I’m fine, and so much better because you came to visit me.“

            I was officially a mess. Crying was obviously easier for me than doing anything else.

            “ _Quieres mi perro_?” Connor put Rooney in my face, asking if I wanted his pet stuffed puppy. 

            “He’s yours.”

            “You can share him.“

            “How is school?” I tried to switch the subject. Luckily, Connor was three and it worked on him.

            “ _Bueno_. I learned a new song.” He switched into English. This is what I supposed happened when you went to bilingual preschool. We had enrolled him in a fancy school not too far away from my office. He had a little uniform he wore and a mini backpack with his initials. He went to school three days a week, and was picking up Spanish very quickly. I was impressed. I mostly spoke to him in English and Spanish, while Cristiano did Portuguese and Spanish. Connor spent the other four days with Cristiano’s Mum (which was Portuguese land to me. I always felt like I needed a translator spending time with his family) learning Portuguese. He managed to communicate very well for someone so little and in the middle of three worlds. 

            “Which song?”

            “Singa songa sixpence, pocka fulla rye. Four an’ twenty blackbirds baked inna pie.” He started, his British accent really showing through. I couldn’t help but laugh.

            “When the pie was opened the birds began to sing?” I sang back to him.

            “Wosn’t thatta dainty dish to setta fora king.”

            “You are so bright, Connor dear.” I kissed his cheek again. I imagined Maricarmen and Carolina blankly staring me, especially because I had no maternal bones in my body. I was a sucker for my little  _gordi_. He was currently the only boy in my life who could do no wrong.

            “I have the best English in my class.”

            “Connor, you’re English so your English should be the best.”

            “Your English is different.”

            “I’m from America, so my accent is different. You know how your Pai speaks funny? His accent is different from mine and yours because he’s Portuguese.”

             Connor started to giggle.

           "I don’t want to keep your  _Pai_  waiting. You should probably go home now,  _guapito_. I love you.” I said.

            “Are you coming home?” He asked tonight.

            “Not tonight,  _gordi_. Soon.”

            “ _Besos_.” He said. This was one of the first Spanish concepts Connor understood well. I suppose he was in the house of  _besos_. 

            Connor gave me a kiss, and I handed him to Maricarmen. Carolina was keeping Cristiano company in the kitchen, which meant she was probably glaring at him and making him feel quite uncomfortable. “Give him back to Cristiano please.”

            I cuddled Kai again, and then went back into the guest room. I couldn’t look at Cris quite yet. It was too painful. Even hearing his voice made me want to cry.

            “Thanks for letting us in,” said Cristiano in his very low, highly accented voice, “Tell Leah that I miss her. Take good care of her.”

            “No problem,” said Maricarmen, “I hope you come back when things are better.”

            “Me too. Say goodbye to _Maricarmen y Carolina_ ,“ said Cristiano.

            “ _Adeus_.” I heard Connor say, this time switching to Portuguese. My poor little  _gordi_  was becoming more and more confused linguistically.

            “He is so cute. I volunteer to babysit if you two need a night off.” Carmen chimed in. I pictured her tickling Connor’s cheek as Cristiano held him.

            “ _Ciao_.” Said Maricarmen.

            I heard the door close and came back into the living room to see Maricarmen holding Rooney the stuffed puppy and Carmen looking at me. “Sit down.” she said.

            I saw my Louis Vuitton overnight bag sitting on the floor. He had sent some of my things—I guess he figured it would be more than one night at Carmen’s. “You should have seen you and that  _bebe_ , Leah, I have never seen you like that before in my life,” said Carolina sitting on the couch. I sat on the loveseat, and Maricarmen sat next to me, propping her feet on the ottoman in front of her.

            “He left you this,” said Maricarmen, putting Rooney in my lap, “He knows you’re sad.”

            “He’s not going to be able to sleep—he can’t sleep without this thing. I have to tell Cristiano he left it here.”

            “No talking to boys. I’m going to take your phone away because I know you’ve been tempted to text him.”

            I looked at the ring on my finger. “He was right here, and I didn’t even see him.”

            “You are so awful at being mad at someone, Leah,” said Carolina, “He calls you a  _puta_  and hours later you’re ready to go home?”

            I exhaled, and decided to open the bag. At the top he had a picture of Connor reading Kai a picture book in Portuguese. I couldn’t help but smile, hearing Connor’s voice in my head as he tried to read to my  _perro_. He had also packed two dresses, leggings, jeans, a couple shirts, my favorite pajama shorts, and sweats. I took out my sparkly gold flats and at the side was my favorite hoodie, a Real Madrid zip up that I often snuggled with when Cristiano was away. He was right there, and I avoided him. He hurt me so much with his words, but I still loved him. I just didn’t know what to say to him and how we could move forward.

            “Carmen, when is your date with Sergio?” I wanted to get the attention off of me.

            “ _Ay,_ what time is it?”

            “Six.” I looked at my phone.

            “When are you supposed to meet him?” Asked Carolina.

            “We’re supposed to have dinner at ten. I want to go to San Ginés for churros afterward, but it’s so small in there that he’ll be mauled. I will be the only person devouring Sergio tonight.”

            “I want to go to San Ginés now,” I said, thinking of how I could easily eat an entire order of churros myself. And two cups of chocolate.

            “Let’s make a bet right now,” said Carolina, “I think that Mari won’t kiss him tonight. She’s going to freak out and act all weird.“

            “I think she’s going to hook up with him,” I said, “How long has it been for you Maricarmen?”

            “You know what—I’m not telling any of you about my date tonight.”

            “It’s going to be in the  _revistas_  anyway. We won’t have to ask you anything. I set you up, remember.”

            “You have to help me get dressed—I don’t have much time. I have to look perfect tonight. Leah, you are the best.” Maricarmen leaned her head against my shoulder.

            “No, you are. Thanks for taking care of me for now and all the time.”

            “Don’t worry—that’s what we’re supposed to do. We are your friends, and we’re going to get you and your boy better. Promise. But soon, we have to decide on what will happen between me and Sergio tonight.”

I still couldn’t decide how I would move forward with Cristiano. I would need to talk to him soon, but what obstacles would get in the way?


	17. Chapter 17

“Start from the very beginning.”

            I was squeezed next to Carolina and across from Maricarmen in San Ginés with a huge plate of churros and two cups of chocolate in front of me. We were waiting for our friend, Manolo who just came back from visiting his boyfriend in Barcelona. He had heard about the whole Cristiano fiasco via Skype, and wanted to be part of Carolina and Maricarmen’s intervention. He was flying to Barajas this afternoon, and promised to meet us here after he dropped his bags at his apartment.

San Ginés was a hole in the wall, and I saw a few people snapping pictures of us with their phones. I tried to pretend they weren’t there, especially because I wasn’t feeling the most glamorous.

            “So amazing,“ Said Maricarmen, putting a churro in the chocolate, “He is so beautiful and I love his accent. He is a charming Andaluz man and everything I want. So sexy.”

            “And?” Said Carolina, widening her eyes.

            “That isn’t the beginning,” I added between  _churro_  bites.

            “ _Bueno_. I met him for dinner at a  _churrasco_  place owned by  _Andaluces_ , because Leah told him I’m from Málaga. So, we had a nice meal and talked for awhile, had some nice Spanish wine, you know.”

            “What happened next?”

            “We went to this fancy bar for a little while. It was too noisy, so he asked me if I wanted to go back to his place.”

            “So you went to his place?” Said Carolina.

            “Yes. And we had some more wine, and talked some more—and I hooked up with him.” She rushed the end of the sentence.

            “How so?”

“We kind of went all the way.”

            “Shut up!” Said Carolina putting her churro down, “You mean?”

            “I didn’t think it was going to happen, but I was caught in the moment. He’s been texting me all day long. I don’t know what to say.”

            “You did him?” I asked.

            “I’m not giving you all of the details right now. Not here.”

            “Did you pull his hair? Something about his hair is so hot,” Said Carolina.

            “Did you both speak in your ridiculous Andalucían accents?” I added.

            “How big is he?”

            “Do you have any bruises María Carmen? Footballers can be so, so rough.”

            “Did you kiss his tattoos? I remembered you saying something about wanting to brush your lips over them? Did he kiss your tattoo?”

            “Was the sex spectacular?”

            “Did you wake up all sore from your Sevillian stallion?“

            Maricarmen was looking at both of us with her mouth open. “Sometimes I ask myself why I am friends with the both of you. We’re supposed to be discussing Leah’s problems with  _el portugués_ ,  _vale_?”

            “Neither of us has gotten any for a while, so we need to live through you.”

            “Leah, it’s been like a week for you. Besides, you know I’m always available when you need me.” She pouted her lips, teasing me. We spent so much time together that people sometimes thought that we were dating, not Cristiano and me. I always found this to be funny. Maricarmen liked to take this idea and run with it.

            “It’s been a few hours for you.” Carolina high fived me, we enjoyed double-teaming on Maricarmen. It was lightening the mood for me. 

            “We are supposed to be talking about  _you_. I got some gossip for you, thank you very much. He feels really sad for you.”

            “How come?”

            “Because he says  _el portugués_ y Piqué are playing with your heart big time. Cristiano is playing the jealous and possessive game and Gerard is playing the ‘I miss you’ sweetheart distance game. He says that he thinks that you should be friends with Gerard, but you two need to talk. You need to make sure he understands that you really love Cristiano, but you love him too, like a friend. If he doesn’t understand that, then you may need some distance. And he said that he’ll try to talk some sense into Cristiano.”

            “Good luck.” I said under my breath.

            “Do you miss him?”

            “Cristiano? Yes. I don’t know how much longer I can be mad at him.”

            “And you’re in Barcelona next week, right?”

            “Next week as in a couple days, yeah.”

            “Have you even talked to him?”

            “Gerard? Kind-of, not really anything substantial—he said he wants to have dinner when I’m there and take me to Camp Nou like old times. I don’t even know if I want to be with him for that long.”

            “You can’t keep giving him the cold shoulder,” said Carolina, sipping her café con leche.

            “Cristiano or Gerard?”

            “Both. Cristiano, because you love him, and Gerard because you also love him—this is so difficult, Leah.”

            “She’s saying you’ve got to decide what’s important to you,” said Maricarmen.

            “They’re both important to me.”

            “I think you should hang out with Piqué, as long as there’s a strict no hooking up policy.”

            “I had that last time, and you see where it got me.”

            “It’s not like Cristiano hasn’t done it before,” said Carolina dunking a churro in her coffee, “I say go for it.”

            “Carolina that is not what you’re supposed to say!” Said Maricarmen, punching her in the arm, “You’re supposed to say, of course I know you choose what’s right for you.”

            “Thanks guys, but I think this is one thing I have to figure out myself. I need to talk to both of them.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

“ _Merci_.”

I handed the man a two-euro coin for the bag of freshly honey-roasted cashews. I could feel their warmth through the paper bag. I had decided to be a tourist for a few hours, getting lost in  _Las Ramblas_  protected by the shades of my sunglasses. I considered pretending that I didn’t understand Spanish: a true American tourist with the travel book and backpack, but that would be too much.

The man selling the  _frutos secos_  in a little store on a side street was a little surprised to hear me say thank you in Catalan instead of Spanish or English.

“Do you speak Catalan?” He asked, handing me the bag. I wanted to stuff them all in my mouth. I was starving, and on a slight diet to fit into the dress I needed to wear for my interviews in Barcelona–and an event I had with Cristiano who I hadn’t seen for several weeks. 

“A little.” I said, smiling. My accent was awful, but I liked the opportunity to show off what I learned when I was abroad.

“How?” He continued, smiling back.

“My old boyfriend,” I said, hoping the man I was talking about would show up soon. I was running out of words in Catalan and patience. I didn’t want to blow my cover. How many brown girls could hold a basic conversation in this obscure language?

“Old? What happened? You’re such a pretty girl.” He said. This man was nosy.

“I went back to the United States to finish school. He stayed here.”

“ _Ah, vale_. So you are an American?” He switched to English, “I speak, uh, a little bit.”

“Leah?”

Hearing my name made me excited because I would no longer be interrogated by the man in the store trying to chat me up. I turned around to see  _him_ , dressed perfectly with his hair recently cut and facial hair recently trimmed. The butterflies were quickly arriving in the bottom of my stomach: the sunglasses, the smile, the way he said my name—all the things I loved about him. But, I wasn’t allowed to love him, I told myself. He was completely off limits, and so was I. Yes, all of these thoughts ran in my head this quickly. Gerard Piqué, regardless of how tall, attractive, and nearly perfect was not going to put me in the same situation as he did the month before. I would not let his charm get to my head. We were friends, and that’s it. No cuddling, no kissing, and absolutely no sex.

“ _Hola_ ,” I said, finally escaping my very long train of thought. I gave him two besos, feeling the stubble of his goatee against my cheek.

This would be more difficult than I thought.

“What did you get? Honey cashews?”

So predictable.

In my head I said, ‘One of these days I’m going to do something so surprising that no one will believe it. Everyone always feels like they know everything that I do or have done. You know what, maybe that thing I will do is you. What will people say then?’

Instead I said, “What do you think? Would you like some?”

“Yeah,” He took a handful, essentially grabbing half of my bag, “Do you want a better snack? I’m starving. There’s a little place by my house where no one will bother us.”

“You know what happened the last time I went with you where no one would be there to bother us.”

“I’ll behave Leah. I promise you.”

“Swear on the Barça crest?”

“I haven’t heard you say that in ages—I guess.”

I was slightly happy he didn’t directly say yes.

“Come on,” he took my hand to lead me out of the store, “Besides, I know that you will love this place.”

“So you were planning to take me here all along?”

He was still holding my hand outside. I was surprised to not be blinded by the flashing lights of the paparazzi. At this point of my time off from Cristiano I was becoming a little less hostile with the cameras. He was becoming worse, and had an incident involving breaking one guy’s camera lens. I thought he had every right to—they were invading our personal lives. I was so worried that they’d catch a picture of my  _gordi_  or me sneaking out of work for a café con leche so no one would see my crying fit in the office.

“Yeah. I figured you needed somewhere relaxing. Have you talked to him?”

“No. I can’t.” I exhaled heavily. I was not going to cry. Oh no.

“You’ll know when you’re ready.” He let go of my hand. People were beginning to notice who the two of us were. It probably baffled them that we were together and had fingers locked for a couple minutes. A few years ago, this would have been normal and unnoticed.

I was not allowed to love Gerard Piqué anymore. I just couldn’t.

“I miss him, but he called me a  _puta_. And he meant it.”

“You know that we’re stupid though. Guys, we don’t think at all. It’s my fault that he was upset with you and called you those things—and he never should have said that to you to begin with.”

“It’s not just your fault.”

“I know how I get when I’m around you.” His voice became small, “I should have never invited you over, especially after we had been drinking so much wine.”

“It wasn’t even a lot.”

“For you one glass is a lot.”

“Whatever.” I pushed him, as if my nudge would make him move at all. I began to laugh.

“Yes, Leah?”

“Nothing.”

I finally realized why I was so worked up over him and didn’t want to talk to him for so long after the whole Ritz incident: he was my first love, so I still loved him but I wasn’t  _in love_  with him. I was  _in love_  with Cristiano, I knew that I was, but he hurt me. I wanted to give him a second chance, I really did, and I hated what this whole break up was doing to us. My work was becoming worse and worse. At this pace, I would run out of vacation days before I could even travel anywhere nice. Cristiano was playing horribly and his temper was hurting him both on and off the pitch. I knew that he was upset—the guys told me how he was behaving at the club. They claimed that he missed me, and didn’t know how to apologize.

I wanted to believe them. I was going to reach my breaking point soon. I missed the  _palacio_ , I missed how he gave me  _beijos_ , I missed his stubbornness and his competitiveness, and I missed how he called me his  _coraçao_. But those words, every time I tried to forgive him, rang in my ears.

Gerard wasn’t perfect—we had our fights when we were dating, but I could never imagine him calling me something so awful. I was going to stop over thinking and enjoy my time with one of my favorite people in the world.

“I really missed you—and Barcelona.” I said.

“Well, we have a few days for you to both see the city and me.” He smiled.

The smile and the eyes, I wouldn’t be able to resist him for too long.

“What is your boyfriend going to do without you?” I said trying to change the subject.

“Cesc? He’ll be fine. I’ll see him at work tomorrow. And, there’s a game the day after. Will you be there?”

“Isn’t that wrong? How can I go to a Barça game?”

“Let’s see. You get to Camp Nou and go—wearing a Piqué jersey of course.”

“Oh yeah, and that will make all of my problems I have now go away. I wouldn’t want to wear a Piqué jersey anyway.”

“I bet you’ll change your mind later.”

“Why is that? Are you flirting with me?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are. You’re breaking the rules.”

“Oh, Leah, there are plenty of rules you’re breaking right now. For instance, the dress you have on right now is stunning.”

“So you’d rather have me dressed ugly to meet up with you?”

“Yes, I mean no, I don’t know.”

“ _Venga_ ,” I took his hand again. It was warm, as it always was when he was nervous. I remembered the feeling from when we were together, “Some rules are meant to be broken.”


	19. Chapter 19

“I like getting into trouble with you.”

Gerard’s apartment had improved immensely from when I was dating him in college. I understood he was the equivalent of an oversized boy in Manchester, but still, I was surprised. This place was grown-up, stylish, basic, and very comfortable looking. It was a little less flashy than anything I could imagine Cristiano purchasing and had a number of Barcelona trinkets around from cutesy pictures of Gerard at La Masia with his teammates when they were tiny and—I couldn’t believe it, a picture of us in Manchester attire. I wondered if he put this out on purpose, but it was in the middle of a collection of pictures. We looked really happy, me wearing a blue third kit, and him in his red. Was I really this aged four years later? I felt like I was thirty, and I was barely twenty-five. I pretended I was looking at the picture of him and Cesc when they were about eight.

“What are you looking at?” He said, catching me staring at his pictures. I felt his large frame behind me, his hands on my waist.

“Your pictures,” I didn’t even complain about his hands, “Like this one, it’s funny. You guys are so little. You were  _novios_ then too, eh?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. We’re just best friends, that’s all. Nothing funny like that. He’s like my brother. Like you and Maricarmen.“

“And that one—when did we take it?” I picked up the picture of us.

“It was before we were together officially, the first game you came to…to see me. You probably had gone to other games at Old Trafford, but yeah.”

“Oh, interesting. It’s really cute.” I looked super excited and eager.

“I really like it, and I like you,” his hands moved down a little.

“Hey.” I said, turning to look at him. His blue eyes were wide.

“ _Qué_?” He asked, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

But it was working.

“You get me into so much trouble, you don’t even understand. If I wasn’t as frustrated as I am now for not having any boy contact I wouldn’t let you be this close to me right now.”

He didn’t say anything. I was waiting for a comment back.

We spent the next couple minutes just staring at each other, not knowing what to say. This felt too familiar.

Working too well. I wanted him to kiss me already. I knew that he wanted to. I was ready, I wanted to do this. He was hesitant; I could read it in his eyes. They gave away his feelings most of the time. I had mastered reading what he was thinking through them.

“Why didn’t you tell me you loved me still,” I said, breaking the silence.

Mood breaker.

“What?” He replied.

“When I left to back to America, and you said you understood and it was best for me to finish my studies. You didn’t put up a big fight for me to stay. And when I came back to work, you kept your distance from me. Why did you do that?”

I was facing him now. He looked away from me.

“No, I want to hear why. Before I decide to do anything, I need to know.”

“Leah, because you never gave me the chance to tell you. After I asked you to move in and you said no, I couldn’t think of another way to keep you here with me. You said we were temporary anyway. You were stuck on going back home and that was it. I didn’t want to put up a fight with someone who didn’t want to stay. I loved you, but you didn’t love me back. When you came back, it was too late.  _He_  found you. There was no way anything would work.”

I tried to remember what happened when I left him. I needed to remember.

_Leah was nearly finished packing her suitcases. She couldn’t believe how many things she had acquired during her year abroad in Europe. Her journey began in Manchester for the fall before she went to Sevilla for the spring and Barcelona for the summer. Leah had one suitcase left to pack. She didn’t want to put her summer dresses away because it meant she was leaving Spain, and more importantly him: the most perfect guy in her universe. She had less than three hours before she needed to finish packing and drive about an hour to El Prat to check into her international flight back home._

_They weren’t ever official, but they were pretty exclusive. Leah’s flatmate, Gemma introduced the two. Her childhood friend, Andrew, was playing for Manchester United’s training team and had a tall, awkward friend from Spain who was quite lonely. His name was Gerard and his English wasn’t the best, but he was learning and was pretty cute too. According to Gemma, this guy was the perfect study abroad catch: up and coming footballer, friendly, and attractive. Leah agreed to meet him at tea to help him ‘practice’ English and spent most of her time staring into his blue eyes and trying not to spill her tea or say something strange. She decided that Gemma had to be the best flatmate ever. She was content with just being friends with Gerard in the beginning, especially because she had to move to Spain in February and eventually back to America in August. This was until he kissed her unexpectedly one night. Holding hands at this point was normal, but then on one of their paseos he decided to do it. It felt right._

_Leah should have known not to fall in love with the first boy that she kissed, especially the tall Spanish one with the mysterious blue eyes. She loved everything about him from his accent to the way that he paid attention to every tiny detail about her. Today, however, she would need to decide how to tell him that she was actually leaving. She loved him with all her heart, she really did, but she decided that it was back to return home and finish college. He would always be special to her, but what did a footballer need to do with a nerdy student anyway? She would be better off moving on and going back to her studies instead of daydreaming about the Spanish boy she met in Manchester._

_Gerard sat on Leah’s bed, watching her continue to pack her things into the final suitcase. He was visiting her for a few days before she was supposed to leave, staying at her apartment instead of going home. He had promised to take her to the airport on her last day in Barcelona. This was one of the very few breaks he had before the regular season started. He had arrived a little early to her place to take her to her afternoon flight. He was dreading this day since they both met: when she planned to go back home. She had already delayed her departure through finding an internship in Barcelona. Now it was early August, and nearly time for school to start again. It had nearly been a year since they met, and now she was leaving forever._

_“Nena,” He said, as she folded a white dress from her closet, “Do you have to go back?”_

_“What do you mean?” Said Leah, looking back at him._

_“Do you need to go back? Can’t you finish university here in Europe so we can be closer together?”_

_Leah stared at Gerard and then looked back down at her dress, pretending it was the most interesting thing in the world. “I have to go back, Geri. I have to finish school over there. You know that.”_

_“But you can finish here so you can be with me. I don’t want that huge ocean to separate us.”_

_“Neither do I, but I can’t just stay in Europe, Gerard. It’s not that easy. I would be letting so many people down if I don’t finish including myself.”_

_“Nena, I’ve thought everything through. I’ll definitely be playing more on the first team next year so I’ll be slightly richer and able to take care of you. You can move in with me, not worry about an apartment, and finish up school in Manchester. You can stay in the extra room if you’re not comfortable with sleeping with me,” He smiled, “Although I know that you like cuddling with me at night even in this tiny bed. Leah, I don’t know what I’ll do without you. You don’t have to leave.”_

_Leah dropped the dress on the ground and looked at him as he continued to speak._

_“Even if you don’t want to live with me, I can help you find somewhere close by. Spain is fine too. I just need you to be close to me nena. I’m going to miss you so much. We have great universities here too.”_

_Of course, Leah loved him too but she always found it hard to express how she felt about him. She was always in denial about their relationship when it began, trying to decide whether all the feelings he spoke about were real or whether there was some language barrier where she didn’t really understand his Spanish at all. She decided that he did really like her when they stayed together after she went to study in Sevilla. He visited her when he could, and they chatted every day. Leah always wondered why they weren’t officially official, and then she remembered that this day would eventually come: the day when she had to leave him for America. She wanted to stay friends, but that kind of long distance would kill her. Spain was one thing. Being an entire ocean away was another. She tried not to cry as she looked at him giving her the sad eyes on the bed._

_“Geri, you know that I have to go home.”_

_“You can make a new home here, Leah. You can visit America, it will always be there.”_

_“You don’t understand, it’s not that easy. I really want to stay here, but I just can’t.”_

_“Leah, you always say that but never give me a reason why.”_

_“It’s because I’m a really nerdy American girl who spends most of her time in the library at home, and will never ever realistically stay with someone like you. Even if I stayed here, as soon as you’re on the first team and meet some supermodel, you will forget about me and I’ll be stuck here, so I think it’s better if I go home. You deserve someone better than me. This was fun while it lasted, even though I—” Leah couldn’t say the words to him, it would hurt him even more, “I just can’t stay Geri, and it kills me. I’m going to go back to my normal life.”_

_“Why can’t we make this normal, Leah?”_

_“Because you’re too good for me.”_

_“Leah.”_

_“If I don’t finish packing I’m going to miss my flight.”_

_“Perfect.”_

_“No, it’s not perfect. I start classes next week.”_

_“If you stayed here, you wouldn’t start until September.”_

_“I know, but I would like to graduate from Columbia. On time. You don’t understand that being Spanish, do you?”_

_“Okay, your fancy school, fine. But you have to promise to come back and visit me, Leah. Spring break? Summer? Long weekend?”_

_“I would visit you every day if I could, but I can’t.”_

_“Which of your suitcases is already packed so I can take them to the car?” He said, trying to change the subject. There was no point in trying to change Leah’s mind at this point._

_“Those two are ready, and the duffel. I just have to finish this one and then I’ll be ready.”_

_“I’ll take them down.”_

_“You’re the best.”_

_“Yeah, yeah. Let me back in please.”_

_Leah wondered if Gerard’s last words had double meaning. She was overanalyzing everything. It would be fine, and he would move on too just like she forced herself to before she left Barcelona. Studying abroad was everything she hoped for. She helped practice her Spanish, did a lot of research in the UK, and had an amazing internship working for the US Embassy for the summer. Having the essential boyfriend was the icing on top of the cake. Europe was a success, but it was time to head back to New York City for the year._

_The ride to the airport was relatively quiet. Leah kept her sunglasses on although it was overcast to hide the redness in her eyes. She thought of what would happen if they arrived to El Prat and she told Gerard that she was staying with him. She would take a leave of absence from school and stay another year, find a job tutoring English or even researching at one of the universities in Barcelona. She could move to Manchester and actually finish her degree there. Columbia would always be there, but would the tall, Catalan boyfriend always be there?_

_She just thought of him as her boyfriend for the first time as she was nearly to the airport. This is great, she thought, trying not to look at him in the drivers seat._

_“What’s your favorite memory of this past year?” He asked, putting his free hand on top of her thigh instead of the gear. Leah was happy that Gerard was probably the only person with an automatic car in Europe. The first time he did this, she pictured herself smashed into a lamp post._

_“I don’t know. I have way too many. Like seeing you play at Old Trafford, getting lost in Barcelona, seeing United play in Italy during the Champions League, cooking classes in Sevilla, pretending to be a diplomat. This semester has been so amazing.”_

_“Want to know my favorite one?”_

_“Yes, of course.”_

_“Spending a lot of time with you.”_

_Leah couldn’t speak. It was easier for her to avoid Gerard’s words instead of reacting to them. She wanted to say the same thing, but this would be admitting that she really wasn’t ready to leave and loved him with all of her heart. It was killing her to leave, but it was what she had to do._

_“I’m going to miss you,” He continued, “Everything about you. From how you roll your eyes at me all the time to how everything you say sounds so smart.”_

_“I’ll miss you too.”_

_“I’ll be waiting for you to come back, Leah.”_

_“I’ll be dreaming of coming back here, believe me.”_

_“And you have to promise that you won’t forget me and what we had here.”_

_“How could I?”_

_“Do you promise?”_

_“Promise.”_

_“We’re here, nena.”_

_This was the moment Leah knew would happen. She wasn’t prepared for it. She couldn’t tell him those words because it meant that she was as horrible as she felt. After she checked in her bags they stood staring at each other, holding hands._

_“So, what do we do now?” She asked, moving his sunglasses from his eyes. They were red, and she noticed how hard he was trying to hold back the tears._

_“This is when you stay,” He whispered._

_“I wish,” Said Leah._

_“We kiss one more time, and then I watch you walk through the door and miss you forever.”_

_“Ger, don’t.”_

_“Leah,” He held me close, “I—”_

_Leah didn’t want to hear him say those words. She couldn’t hear ‘te amo’ or ‘I love you’ because it hurt too much. She decided to kiss him instead, “I’ll be thinking about you all the time.”_

_“Me too.”_

_“Is this when we say goodbye.”_

_“I think so.”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Yes. I’ll let you know when I’m home, okay?”_

_“Nena, one more before I let you go,” He said, hugging her tightly again and giving her one last long kiss._

_“I—I have to go now. I don’t know how I’m going to get all this stuff through customs.”_

_“Hasta pronto, Leah. You’re going to be amazing. Have a great last year of university, and please don’t forget me and everything from this year, vale?”_

_“Hasta pronto. And I won’t.” She said, letting go of his hands and walking through the sliding glass doors. She decided not to look back, because if she did, she would never leave…_

Some of the words stung so sharply. Combined with the emotion in his eyes, I was stunned. I was silly. I didn’t realize at twenty-one what I did at twenty-five: he was absolutely enamored with me when we were together. He was more worried about keeping me happy than keeping himself happy. I was awful, and felt heartless.

I didn’t know what to say, so I said, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Leah.”

“You know that I love—loved you too, I just didn’t know how to say it to you then.”

María Carmen would say, ‘I told you so!’ at this point.

I still loved him.

I was in love with two people, and it was awful, and it hurt.

I was in love with two people. Who was I? I was a horrible, heartless woman who couldn’t understand feelings when they were right there flashing in her face for so long. Cue hysterical Leah in 3…2…

“I don’t know why I’m making things so awkward and horrible right now,” I said a little crazy.

“What?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Can you stop speaking in code?”

“I want you…now.” I whispered covering my hand with my mouth.

He removed my hand from my face and held it tightly, “Are you sure?”

I nodded, wide eyed.

“I’m not sure, Leah.”

“Why?”

“Because I know that you still love him too.”

“I’m sure, and I haven’t been drinking or anything, I want you now.”

“Why now, Leah? Why not before, why not when you left?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you promise not to freak out this time?”

“I can’t make any promises. I’ve been pretty unstable lately. Can you just hold me?” I really needed a hug, and I liked Gerard’s hugs. They were warm, and big, and comfortable—they felt just right for some reason.

“How long has it been since you talked to him?” He whispered as he held me close. I could smell his cologne; it was different from what Cristiano usually wore, a lot sweeter and less strong.

“This is going into the third week.”

“And are you sure you’re fine.”

“Why so many questions? Shh.”

“So, what do we call this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it like some weird version of make-up sex? Now you’re asking questions too.”

“Who said we’re getting that far? I’m still here crying like a crazy woman, and you’re squeezing me to death.”

“You said hold you,” he held me more tightly, jokingly.

 I pretended I couldn’t breathe, “You will be making up with yourself if you go any tighter.”

“I can’t if you’re wearing the ring.”

“It’s in Madrid.”

“Perfect,” He began to move in, but I interrupted him.

“Let’s make a deal first. We’re going to do this, and then no more. No more kisses, touching,  _nada_. Chapter closed, we’re just friends from now on.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

“Here’s my condition. You can’t wear little dresses like this around me anymore.”

“And you can’t have me over alone like this anymore, nor show up in Madrid without telling me.”

“Deal.”

I was going to relax and enjoy every moment because this would be my last chance before I moved back to my normal life…


	20. Chapter 20

As much as I knew that both of us wanted this, we were avoiding making it happen like the plague. I sat cuddled next to Gerard’s body on his balcony attached to his bedroom, enjoying listening to him breathing and the breeze of the cool Mediterranean air instead of taking off his clothes and spending the rest of the day in his bed. I then realized this is what made me fall in love with him the first time. I could just sit with him and enjoy his company without being worried about having to do anything physical. But he was so attractive, and knew how to turn me on without even touching me.

All I had to do was look at the blue eyes. The ones that were gazing out into the ocean and occasionally gazing at me, saying everything he wanted to say without any words. Every now and then he’d brush his fingers across my thigh. I wanted him to keep moving them higher, but I decided not to say anything or make the first move. We all know how wonderfully that went last time.

It felt like the old days, when it was just the two of us in the flat on the awful brown couch snuggled together watching an American movie with Spanish subtitles. Instead, we watched the people walk by and the ocean, laughing every now and again at awkward couples or people in really tacky clothes. We had moved up so much from twenty-one, but I felt the same feelings that I did a few years ago. I was comfortable.

I realized that I never felt this same sense of comfort and home when I was at my so-called ‘home’ at the  _Palacio_. I loved Cristiano, I really, really did, but I always felt like I was never good enough for him. I was always walking on pins and needles, being careful with every move that I made. I never felt that way with Gerard, but then again we were dating before he was the football star that he was now. I needed to stop over analyzing everything and enjoy being cuddled next to one of my favorite people.

This time that he glanced at me he was giving the look that I knew too well. This was the kiss me already look. I would wait for him to make the first move this time. I refused.

“ _Nena_ ,” He said, looking straight at me. I could have melted right here, and not just from the sun. Everything, from his hands on top of mine, to the view, the breeze, the sun.

Just let go, and stop thinking, Leah.

Let him kiss you and enjoy every second of it.

Do not think about how you have to let him go forever after tonight.

Thinking about it already.

Fuck being in love with two people. There goes the vulgar language again, running through my head. Is it nicer if I think in Spanish?  _Joder, cada vez que estoy contigo, no puedo funcionar—_  Nope.

“Hey,” Was all I could say. I was trapped in the eyes.

Let him kiss you.

He ran his fingers through my hair, moved closer and closer and closer.

And then, yes.

He kissed me, soberly on the balcony by the beach. It was slow and long, and I even didn’t mind the stubble from his facial hair brushing against my face. After this one, I knew I would want another and another. I didn’t say anything when he let go and just looked at me with the eyes again, and then back over the railing.

 _Coño_ , Leah. Do something.

“ _Otra vez_?” I whispered, and he looked over to me again.

“ _Bueno_ ,” He said smiling, “That was just a preview.”

You’re so much better when we’re sober, I thought.

“I don’t like previews, I like showing up for the entire movie.”

“Well, you came a little too early then  _Nena_ ,” He was slightly touchier this time, his hand sneaking under my dress as he kissed me.

I could have peaked from this. Sad, but true, the closest contact I had for a few weeks was probably cuddling with Maricarmen because she was sick of hearing me cry myself to sleep. She would hold me, but it wasn’t the same because we are about the same size. I was used to someone bigger and stronger keeping me warm, but Mari was a good sub. Now I had a frame more like what I was used to entering the game.

 _Más despacio, porfa_.

Kisses, more hands, things in Catalan, me giggling like I was thirteen and telling him to stop when I really meant to keep going. He moved the kisses from my lips, down my neck, across my collarbone and paused to slip the straps of my dress down my shoulders. I always wondered how disappointed the two guys I had been with were to uncover not so much in this department. And I had on a regular, but very cute bra today. If Gerard was anything like Cristiano, he would need some help figuring out how to take the thing off, especially when I was still essentially fully clothed. Dresses make everything so much easier though. I was trying to determine how to undress the perfectly dressed man quickly taking my clothes of on his balcony. The thought of even taking his shirt off could take me over the edge.

Woman up, Leah. What would Maricarmen do?

I was making this so easy for him though. I knew that he knew how to make me excited, the same way he did before. He started, under my dress going to the spot on my lower back that was most ticklish with one hand, and playing with the top of my panties with the other (lucky for me, they were cute and fancy. Then again, he probably didn’t care), beginning to slip his fingers between the thin material separating the most sensitive part of my body and his curious hands.

Was it safe to do this outside, especially with so many people walking by?

Lower and lower, more quickly.

“Leah, you’re always like this,” He said when I felt him touch me.

Keep going. Stop talking.

“Like what?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

“You’re always so wet, so fucking wet Leah,” He touched me more, “Like you’re almost dripping and we haven’t done anything yet.”

If I was a guy, Señor Blue Eyes, I would have been hard since this morning at the thought of seeing you, but since my body is designed better than yours, I have better control over those type of things. Take that. But don’t say it.

“Keep going,” Was what I said before kissing him, letting him continue to touch me.

Every touch, it was harder to stay quiet.

We were going to break his outdoor furniture if we stayed out here, and cause some people to try to figure out where all the noise was coming from.

He lifted the bottom of my dress up and slipped down my panties, leaving them on the floor. I didn’t care. We could actually keep going on the balcony. I decided that it was probably quite sturdy, and perfect for this.

“ _Nena_ , you know what I want to do because you’re like this?”

“Surprise me.”

“ _Mira_ ,” He said, “Lie down on here, or on the floor, or we can take it inside, whatever you want to do.”

“I want you to do whatever you’re gonna do now,” I said, closing my eyes. I was tired of boys teasing me, leaving me hanging, and needing to mentally finish myself. I guess I was partially to blame recently due to my emotional instability, but Geri you can’t halfway undress me, touch me, and then ask twenty-five questions. I’m the journalist here, you’re the footballer. Be quiet.

“Okay,” He said, kissing me quickly, and then beginning the kisses around my navel, moving them lower and lower and lower.

Fucking yes.

As soon as I felt his tongue down there I sighed, more loudly than usual. He wasn’t too rough, and was better than I remembered. From experience, I knew that he was a professional at lady pleasing in this sense: this was as far as I would let him go way back when. (“I am NOT going back to New York and finding out in the middle of my senior year that I am having your Spanish baby,” I told him one time that we almost actually  _did it_  after a few too many drinks, “Besides, how weird would a super tan kid look with blue eyes?”)

Keep going, keep going, keep going.

Do not say Cristiano’s name.

“ _Ayy Dios mío, dame más_ ,” I said. Sex was more pleasurable when you had it in Spanish.

He looked up from between my legs, smirked, and continued touching me instead so he could talk, “ _Nena_ , you taste so good,” He said to me in Catalan, “But I have to stop.”

“Why?”

“To mess with you.”

“ _Coño, Geri, por favor_ —”

“I like hearing you say bad things in Spanish, sorry.” He was now laughing, “Besides you’re so wet already, I can’t waste this.”

Who said we were only doing it once today?

“You know that your bed is right there,” I said, each stroke getting me closer to where I wanted to be.

I was so weak.

“ _Quiero follarte ahora, por favor_ ,” I said, quietly, staring into his eyes and trying to look mean.

“You’re going to make me laugh,” He said, stopping, getting from his knees, and offering me a hand up from the bench, “And you still have on too much clothing for me,  _Nena_.”

“You’re still in all of your clothes.”

“No shoes,” He said, looking at his feet, “You’ve still got on that dress.”

“Whose fault is that?” I said, following him into the bedroom. He left the door to the balcony open.

All right, I understand. I waited three years to finally let him know that I wanted him. He deserved every right to ask me to tell him every possible way.

I kissed him quickly, “You can’t leave me frustrated like this, Geri.”

“You left me frustrated for so long,” He whispered, “And you’re not even handling it for a few minutes.”

His hand was back under my skirt, playing with me, brushing across with his fingertips every now and again between kisses. I decided that I needed to rush the process a bit, unzipping the top of his jeans and slipping down his sides a bit, placing my hands on his hips. He was warm, and my hands were very cold.

“Just take them off,” I insisted, moving my hands down further down him this time, considering if I would return the favor. I just wanted him to finish helping me feel less frustrated as soon as possible.

“If you let me take off the dress next.”

“Fine, you can take it off and then keep going,” I tied my hair up on the top of my head watching him undress for me. He wasn’t as sculpted as Cristiano, but was still pretty great, especially those thighs,  _Dios mío_ , I was becoming wetter by the second.

He was standing in front of me, nearly naked, hands on hips, “ _Lista_?”

“Don’t be sassy,” I said, smiling, and so happy that I couldn’t blush.

“That needs to be off,” He pulled my dress over my head, leaving it on the floor near his stack of clothes. It was me in my bra, and him in his boxers looking at each other and bursting into laughter, “We’ve both forgotten to take something off, yeah?” I said, staring at his lower half and deciding to save him the trouble by unhooking my bra and adding it to the pile.

“Yeah—what are you looking at?”

“You. Nice tent.”

“Whatever, I can take care of myself. Good luck, Leah.” He pretended to walk away.

I knew this game.

“No, you cannot. You’ve been stalling for ten minutes, can you please finish what you started.”

I got on top of the bed, the cool silver linens felt great against my body. He stood at its edge, studying me as if he didn’t know what to do. He then opened my legs, sat in front of me, and began touching me again until I felt two of his fingers enter me. It felt so good. All I could do was breathe heavily, moan a bit, and grab onto one of the pillows close to my head.

“Tell me what you want,  _Nena_.”

“I want you to finish,” I exhaled.

“You what?”

“I want you to finish,  _Dios mío_ , I think I’m nearly there,” I said between screaming a string of nonsense.

He shifted his weight over me now, continuing to use his hands but adding a few kisses between down my body. I could feel him against me, now completely hard and probably as frustrated as I was a few minutes ago. I was going to release soon, I could feel it. He was so worried about making me happy as usual.

Was I going to be selfish, or ask him to join in?

I didn’t have much time to make a decision.

Think quickly.

“I want you,” I said to him, his face close to mine. He kissed my nose, “I want you now. I’m not afraid anymore.”

“Positive?” He took out his fingers. The eyes were giving me the ‘I don’t think you’re actually ready,’ look. I’d seen this one about a thousand times.

“Yes.” Ugh, the frustration of nearly finishing and trying not to finish right now.

“It will probably hurt.” He touched himself grinning. I understood the whole indirect way of him trying to say, ‘of course I’m larger and better than that other guy you’re also seeing.’

“Do it.”

“I can’t hear you.”

 _Hijo de puta_.

“I am going to scream if you don’t just do it, just fucking do it please.”

            “You can scream if you want to,” He entered me, and it hurt so, so much. I couldn’t determine why, but I dug my fingers into the bed and yelled. This was worse than the fingers. The combination of feeling good and hurt were two confusing emotions I couldn’t untangle, mixed with the frustration and me being nearly to the point of releasing all over his very sleek and fancy bed set. He was taking his time, moving into me slowly, in and out between more kisses. He was good, and I was out of time.

            “I—” Couldn’t finish the thought, “It’s so good, keep—“ I could feel it soon.

            “Shh, I know, you don’t have to say anything,” He kept going, now moving more quickly and harder, between motion taking the time to kiss me in different places. He kept going and going until I couldn’t take it anymore.

            “I don’t want you to stop,” I said, knowing I couldn’t wait anymore, “I’m going—I have to. I can’t.”

            “You’re allowed to,” He said, pulling out to allow me to finish. He watched me, observing the work that he did on me. He had left me a highly satisfied, sweaty mess who was extremely out of breath. This was a work out I hadn’t trained for in a few weeks.

            “Keep going,” I said, seeing he wasn’t done, “I want you back in.”

            What did that mean? Too many interpretations…

            “You do?”

            “I want top this time though,” I said, “Move.”

            I liked being in control. After a little shifting, kisses, and strings of words in three languages, I was now sitting on top of him placing kisses down his body. I was returning him the favor, trying to decide how far my kisses would go.

            I needed a glass of wine to go that far south. Perhaps three.

            “ _Nena_ ,” He whined, as I began beyond his navel, “Now.”

            “I should be like you. What do you want?”

            Instead of playing with him, I got straight to it, helping him enter me and riding him from the top. It was hard work, yes, but I liked challenges. The faces he made were priceless, and he was pretty quiet except for the moans he made. No words, just movement. I liked this, being so close and connected, enjoying everything happening between us.

            “Leah,” He said, finally speaking, “I’m going to—”

            I got up, helped him finish a bit with my hands, and watched him release both physically and one final noise.

            Just watching him like this was enough to turn me on again.

            What was I thinking when I was twenty-one?

            I had him all over me, as he had me all over him. We were both absolutely gross, but were awkwardly smiling at each other. All I wanted to do was cuddle next to him, fall asleep, and do it again in a couple hours.

            “ _Nena_ , you’re fantastic,” He said, kissing my forehead as I lay next to him.

            “So are you.”

            I closed my eyes, feeling the warmness of his body against mine. This entire being in love with two people thing was going to be harder than I thought. I relaxed next to him, exhausted from all the emotions I had gone through today. And then I heard the familiar buzz of the intercom phone meaning someone was at Gerard’s gate. He had access to it from his room.

            “Sorry,” He said, getting up to answer it, leaving me alone in the middle of his bed.

            “ _Si_?” He said, pressing the button, picking up a pair of shorts that were hanging on a chair in the corner.

            “ _Hola, novio_ , what are you doing?” Said the voice on the other side. I recognized it immediately.

            “Cesc, really? This isn’t a good time.” Continued Gerard in Catalan.

            “Who are you sleeping with today?” He asked.

            My eyes were wide, realizing how naked I was and that another guy was about to come in here.

            Gerard looked at me and rolled his eyes, “I’ll let you in.” He unlocked the gate from the button on the wall.

            “He is your boyfriend,” I said, “He called you  _novio_.”

            “Leah, I’m kicking you out with him. Act normal and he won’t suspect anything.” He threw my dress at me from the floor.

            Please. The guilt was written all over our faces and bodies…


	21. Chapter 21

“You’re up to something.”

            I could hear both Gerard and Cesc grumbling in Catalan as I walked out of the bedroom in the first thing I picked up off the ground which happened to be Gerard’s t-shirt from earlier. Why I was too lazy to pick up my dress, I have no idea. They were standing in his kitchen, Gerard pouring Cesc a glass of La Casera. They both stared at me, messy hair on top of my head and all.

            “Leah?” Said Cesc, “I haven’t seen you in forever, well at least up close I mean. It’s been like three years.”

            “Hey,” I said, giving him two kisses and hoping that there wasn’t anything visible from what I had just finished doing with Gerard on my body. The t-shirt was probably all the evidence he needed. He pulled out another glass for me. I guess that he should have known that I was thirsty from all the work we were doing minutes ago in the bedroom.

            “What are you doing here?” He continued.

            “She’s visiting me,” Answered Gerard, pouring himself a glass last. I imagined him drinking from the bottle if it wasn’t for me around. He was such a boy.

            “No one would come to Barcelona just to visit you,” Said Cesc suspiciously.

            “I mean, you did come over to my apartment uninvited as usual.”

            “Geri, you know as well as I do that we had a date with Super Nintendo today. It’s in my iCal,” He pulled out his phone, “ _Mira_.”

            They definitely were dating. He was worse than I was. I giggled a little bit watching the two talk like an old couple. I suppose they were in some way.

            “Are you staying here?” Continued Cesc, awkwardly standing between Gerard and me.

            I honestly felt like I was stealing his boyfriend. Feeling guilty for the wrong reason, no?

            And I hadn’t thought about staying here. My things were at the hotel where I was staying for the weekend. I was originally here for work purposes, not to hook up with my old football-playing boyfriend. I didn’t have any of my clothes here, so I wasn’t sure of how to answer.

            “No,” I said, “Just stopping by today.”

            “I was going to ask her to stay though,” Said Gerard, narrowing his eyes at Cesc, “So you’re welcome if you want to  _Ne—Leah._ ”

            Cesc gave both of us a weird look.

            “Did you just call her  _Nena_?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

            “No,” Both of us said slowly.

            So guilty it was beginning to be painful.

            “You two are still possibly the worst liars in the world.”

            “What do you mean?” I asked, wishing that I had a glass of wine instead of sparkling water.

            “ _Mira_. It’s all over your faces. I know Señor Piqué very well, and I know his post-sex look and this is it. He’s a little red, has a few marks, hair isn’t perfect as usual, and his —something’s up. And you’re wearing the shirt he had on earlier today. Guilty.”

            I looked over at Gerard and noticed all the small details that Cesc just said. He was a little red in the face, had a few marks around his neck, and his hair was a little sweaty and no longer perfect. I imagined that I looked just as bad, and then remembered I was just in his t-shirt with nothing underneath and my hair was messily tied on top of my head.

            This entire boyfriend-like behavior was also too much for me

            I would ask about their relationship later.

            Today was a day for firsts and possibly seconds.

            Let’s make this three, no?

            I had nothing to say, other than the thoughts that had flooded my head as soon as I saw the two of them together. I was pretty sure that I was slightly taller than Cesc, but  _no me importa_ …  

            “I can come back later,” Continued Cesc, taking another sip of his drink and putting it on the table, “And you know that it isn’t my business what you do, but you know that I can read all of your emotions, Geri.”

            Gerard said something back to Cesc in Catalan that I couldn’t translate because it was far too fast. Then they looked at me, smiled, looked at each other, and back at me again and said something else. I was lost.

            “I hate it when you two do this  _novio_  thing to me.” I said, looking at the two, waiting for them to kiss or something. I decided that would be something I wouldn’t mind, as long as they allowed me to join in at one point. So lucky I’m not a guy right now. I decided to take a long sip of La Casera, watching them and preventing me from having to speak for a couple seconds.

            “What  _novio_ thing?” Asked Gerard, putting his arm around Cesc, grinning at me.

            “That whole thing, like you’re doing right now. I’m starting to think that Super Nintendo is code for something else. I’m sorry that I beat you to your  _novio_.”

            I just admitted it.

            “And there you go,” Said Cesc, continuing to mess with me by taking Gerard’s hand, “Caught both of you. Wait, aren’t you dating Ronaldo? You’re so dating him. So, how does this work?”

  
            “No, she isn’t,” Answered Gerard for me.

            “It’s complicated,” I added, feeling guilty for the first time today.

            “You always like being in really deep shit, don’t you?” Said Cesc to Gerard, and then he rambled in Catalan again, something that sounded more irritated. I could understand a few choice words, but the speed again. I was lost, but they were talking about me.

            “Okay,  _novios_ , I’m exhausted, so I’m going to take a nap because my head is hurting. I think it’s from traveling. Enjoy your video games.”

            “Don’t,” Said Cesc, “Join us. Besides, I know that you will beat both of us in Super Mario. Come on Leah.”

            They did the thing where they both smiled in the same way at the same time at me.

            “I can’t. I’m exhausted. Where is your guest room? You guys are creepy.”

            “You can sleep in my bed, Leah,” Said Gerard, “And you can join if you want, really. We won’t do anything weird.”

            “No, the pillows are calling me, see you two in a few hours.”

            He hugged me tightly, intentionally not kissing me to add more evidence to Cesc’s suspicion (and confirmation) about our behavior.

            “You can kiss her,  _no me importa_ ,” Said Cesc, “Who am I to interrupt whatever you two have going on here. Besides, Geri, I’ll be here to take care of you when  _el portuges_  slide tackles you in your ankles in a couple weeks. I’m really great at playing nurse.”

            “Sometimes I question why I’m friends with him,” Said Gerard, “Anyway, get some rest.”

            “Believe me, I will. Don’t beat him too badly.” I said quietly, “I’ll see you two later.” 


	22. Chapter 22

“Sometimes, I can’t believe you at all. I show up to your place, and there’s Leah in one of your t-shirts and you have the most ridiculous sex face on. Gerard, I can’t tell you what to do, but come on, what in the hell were you thinking? And don’t give me the whole you’re in love with her thing, because I understand that, but she’s completely off limits and you know it.”

            Who needs their mother when you have your best friend always at your side, nagging you about the decisions that you’ve made for the day. I really needed to explain everything that had happened to build up to the moment that was finally being with Leah physically, but Cesc wouldn’t understand anyway. He’s in a honeymoon phase with his latest girlfriend. Our friends like to text me pictures of them together, telling me my  _novio_  has finally dumped me for a proper girlfriend.

            And here I am.

            Single, yet again. Extremely eligible bachelor, probably one of the tallest people in the city, quite good (and successful, mind you) at football, very handsome, perhaps not the smartest guy, but I think I’m quite likeable. Of course, the only girl that I’ve ever fallen extremely hard has obviously never felt the same way. Or at least she couldn’t articulate that she shared the same feelings I had for her. I tried telling myself the first time she left me to let her go and move on. I was doing pretty well until I ran into her in Madrid about a month ago. It was nearly three-thirty in the morning, and I asked Cesc to sleep over tonight even though I had originally asked him to go home after our marathon Super Mario session when Leah was taking a nap. After I beat Cesc for the tenth time in Mario Kart on my Nintendo 64, I thought that it was a good time to wake Leah up. Never had I seen her sleep so hard. She wouldn’t move when I nudged her. It took a few kisses for her to mumble my name and tell me to go away.

“And you know what’s even worse, Geri, you have that interview with Leah,” Continued Cesc, “You’re going to be talking to her, televised, taped, whatever, and everyone is going to see how the two of you make stupid faces at each other. You are in love with her.”

            “Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, growing more and more irritated with Cesc as he continued to talk.

            “Why didn’t she stay the night? I mean, I know I’m a better substitute, but you wish that you could have some of this,” He said, taking his baguette out of the toaster. I was standing at my counter, shredding a tomato to go on top with some olive oil, garlic, salt, and a little ham. I had to be careful before I shredded the tips of my fingers of too because I was letting my frustration out on the tomato.

            “You wish and I don’t know. She said she wanted to sleep at the hotel so she could focus on her interviews for today.”

            “So, that’s why you asked me to come back over? You didn’t want to sleep alone.  _Pobrecito_.”

            “Cesc.”

            “I don’t believe that you went to her hotel and didn’t do anything though. You didn’t just drop her off and give her a couple friendly  _besos_. If you did, you wouldn’t be this hungry.”

            “Can’t say that I didn’t,” I took his plate, putting the tomato, garlic, and olive oil on top of the bread, sprinkled some salt, and topped it off with some of the ham my Mamá had brought over from her favorite shop on the outskirts of town. Although I was only a few months older than him, I often felt like it was my responsibility to take care of Cesc as I was doing now without thinking. How did he survive without me tying his shoes and making sure the taller kids didn’t pick on him in London?

            “Explain,  _y gracias_ ,” He said, taking the plate back to go and sit at the island at the edge of the kitchen. I ate most of my meals here instead of my dining room that was mainly reserved for when my immediate family was over for lunch. Cesc was essentially my immediate family too, but he didn’t get special treatment. He basically lived here. The proof was the toothbrush he left in the guest bathroom and his clothes I would often find mixed in my things, a few sizes way too small for me.

            “Okay, so I took her back in the Porsche—”

            “The two seater?”

            “Yes. Let me finish. And we were just talking like nothing had happened at all earlier. She was just playing it off like it wasn’t a big deal at all. I was going to just drop her off at her hotel, but she told me to come in with her, and I did.”

            “And what happened then?” He took a bite of his  _pan con tomate_  before he sat down.

            “She whispered she wanted to kiss me goodbye, but not in the car, so she invited me into the room and it went from there.”

            “Went where?”

            “Cesc, are we fourteen again? What do you think?”

            “So, you finally got what you’ve been wanting so long?” He poured his own glass of juice. Surprising, I know.

            “It’s really unsatisfying. I feel like I got what I wanted, but then I don’t because she’s really holding onto the whole having one day to be together thing. I don’t want this to be temporary, I want it to be forever. Before the media day stuff it’s supposed to be over for us. He’s just not right for her.”

            I had a tomato in my hand, and without really thinking squeezed it unusually hard causing its insides to come out in a mess all over me and the counter.

            “ _Joder_ ,” I said, upset because I had just picked them up from the  _Mercat_  yesterday but also because I allowed the thought of  _him_ , her boyfriend to make me very upset. I had mastered controlling my feelings when I even had the slightest glance of him, but now, after I was able to spend time with her I just couldn’t anymore.

            “Gerard.  _Calmate_.”

            “Cesc, you know that he’s not right for her at all. The way she looks at me every single time I see her, even when she’s with him, it’s the same way she looked at me in Manchester. The exact same look. And I was stupid yet again and agreed that I was okay with accepting that we would continue as friends after today. I’m not even hungry anymore. I just can’t—”

            “What did she say after you finished?”

            “Nothing. She said nothing. She always says nothing. It’s like when she left the first time, and she wouldn’t say  _te amo_ and wouldn’t allow me to tell her that. She just won’t let me tell her how I really feel, ever, and now it’s way too late. She’s going to marry him, I know that she is. They’re going to make up and everything will go back to normal for her and I’m still going to be waiting for her. I just held her, and I think she was crying again, but I wouldn’t look into her eyes this time. I just couldn’t.”

            “ _Mira_ , you know what you need to do?”

            “Enlighten me.”

            “How you’re talking to me right now, like you’re about to start crying and shit,  _por favor_ , tell her how you feel. Pretend you’re talking to me, and just let her know. It will make you feel a million times better.”

            “Cesc, you don’t understand Leah at all. She won’t let me tell her that I still love her. She always finds a way to avoid hearing the words like it’s going to kill her. It’s like she doesn’t have feelings sometimes.”

            “I understand you though, and ever since you’ve been talking to her again you’ve been acting so weird. But didn’t you say that she told you she loved you last night?”

            “She made sure that she emphasized it was past tense, she  _loved_  me. I don’t past tense  _love_  her, but I still  _love_  her now, presently. I just need to get over it.”

            “You’re not going to just get over her. You’ve been trying for the past three years. You know what? You’re going to tell her everything, about all the feelings and how you still love her for real, and then see what happens from there. It will make you feel a lot better.”

            “Or a lot worse.”

            “Or a lot better. And you need to because we’ve got an important game tonight and you need to look pretty for the interview. Can we get some sleep? Stop worrying about her. It will all work out, okay?”

            I didn’t have that much time to decide what I was going to do, but I knew that having to see her again would hurt just as hard as it did to say goodbye to her.

            I was running out of time.

            I was running out of time just like I did three years ago.

            And I didn’t want to make the same mistake again.

* * *

            “Funny seeing you here.”

            I had spent an unusually long time in the hotel getting ready for today. Barcelona was having a media day before their nighttime game, and my boss lovingly assigned me to this trip for our network. I wasn’t the only person here from my job, but I was responsible for being on camera and talking to some of the players. I was convinced that someone had researched me, found out that I had dated Gerard, and would decide on asking me questions instead about being in love with two footballers at the same time. Since I had been in and out of the office for the past few weeks, I knew that the rumors were floating between my co-workers at rapid speed. It didn’t help that there were pictures and stories in all of the gossip magazines.

            Gerard was smiling at me with his same silly grin with the inviting blue eyes, dressed in a simple blazer, crisp button down, and dark wash jeans. He looked absolutely stunning. I couldn’t believe this was the same guy I was in bed with last night, then again I can’t believe a lot of things that have been happening in my life recently. I was waiting for him to stop by my room after a few pretty flat interviews with footballers I had very little interest in. The plan was having Gerard speak first, and then have Cesc join him to do a cutesy best friend interview. This would be like a repeat of last night, minus me having an amazing hook up not once, but twice in the same day.

            “Hey,” I said, letting him give me two kisses and ultimately hug me.

            “Do you have tough questions for me?”

            “Not too tough, Geri. Perhaps a little touchy when I ask you about your  _novio_.”

            “How long is the interview? And we aren’t dating,  _mujer_.”

            “I get about ten minutes. You’re quite popular, I don’t know why.”

            “I think that you know completely why after last night,” He muttered.

            “Shh,” I said, punching him in his arm. It hurt me more than it probably hurt him.

            “Sorry,  _nena_ , sometimes I forget.”

            “And,  _por favor_ , do not call me that on camera or when people are around, look they’re looking at us,” I saw the eyes of the lighting people look very suspicious at our semi-whispered conversation.

            “You already broke one of our promises, Leah. Have you looked in the mirror? I can’t keep any if you can’t keep the one rule I gave you.”

            “Yes I looked in the mirror, what are you talking about?”

            “That dress is amazing on you. Remember, you, Leah Hamilton Fox, aren’t supposed to wear anything that makes you look stunning around me.”

            “This?  _En serio_. Whatever,” I said, speaking about the simple light blue dress I was wearing. Less was always more for the camera.

            “What do I need to do now?”

            “Let me get you a microphone and then we can chat for the camera. Act natural, be cute, you know what to do. And do not call me  _nena_.”

            “Did you just call me cute?”

            “No, Geri,  _por favor_ , no flirting,” I whispered.

            “Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” He said.

            “Come on,” And in that moment I nearly took his hand, forgetting that we were in a very public space where more than just eyes, but cameras were watching us. I brushed it off as if I was rubbing something off of my dress and he looked at me surprised.

            “Leah.”

            “Yes.”

            “Nothing. You just look so nervous.”

            “I’m fine. I’ve done this a million times.”           

I wanted to hold his hand so badly, I wanted us to be together without it being so forbidden on my part, especially because I never officially broke things off with Cristiano. I wondered what he was doing at home in Madrid, how he was coping, if Connor had been at the  _Palacio_  recently, who was walking the dog. And then I processed that I thought of it as home. My home was in Madrid, but I kept questioning if my heart was there too. I couldn’t deal with all of the feelings. My heart felt like it was shrinking and being broken into about a million little pieces that would probably never be mended in the right shape again. I wasn’t fine, I was just growing more confused on what direction I would take and unfortunately was about to show all of my emotions on national television.

* * *

 

             _Leah sat in the chair, legs crossed, holding her notes in her lap with questions it took hours to write. She shouldn’t have felt this nervous around him, but then again with everything that had happened in the past three weeks she had every right to._

_She was tired of asking questions she already knew the answers to. Are you confident that Barcelona can catch up with Real Madrid? She knew that was essentially impossible, but had to ask it anyway. How do you feel about the Champions League? She was waiting for someone to answer, ‘What do you think?’ but it never happened. What is your strategy on keeping focused in this important part of the season? All of the money that I make every day and of course the love of the game. That’s at least how she would feel._

_Leah looked at the question twice before she read it. It was so general and boring, but after a few hours of sleep she couldn’t think of anything better. She put on a giant smile, “So, what have you been up to other than football? We would all like to know?”_

_“Well, I don’t have that much time. I like to spend some time with my family and friends, catch some sun at the beach, nothing to exciting. There is someone special, however, that I really hope that I’ll be able to spend more time with as the season winds down. I don’t know, I always feel really ridiculous when I talk about her, but she’s like everything good that you would want, like sunshine, and the beach, and like a million paletas. And no, don’t tell him when he comes in, but it’s not Cesc. Let him believe what he wants,” Gerard grinned, “She’s actually a lot closer to me than she thinks, but if she’s watching, besos nena, te amo.”_

_He blew a kiss into the camera, and then looked at Leah._

_Leah didn’t know how to respond quickly. She could only blankly look at Gerard sitting on the couch, looking perfect as usual._

_“I—I—cut! I need five minutes, I’m not feeling well,” Said Leah, taking her microphone off and standing up, “I’m sorry, I need a quick break.”_

_She walked out of the room, hands covering her face to hide the tears that were rapidly building in her eyes. If she was trying to hide the chemistry and feelings between them, she had definitely failed. No one walked out of a football interview, especially in this manner. She would have to compose herself, come up with some lie about food poisoning or catching the flu, come back, and finish the chat as quickly as possible._


	23. Chapter 23

“What has gotten into him? I mean what was he possibly thinking doing that to me in the interview? You understand him more than I do, I mean, he may not have been talking about me, but I know that he was talking about me.”

            I was still in Camp Nou, well technically outside of Camp Nou, sitting on the hood of Cesc’s car wearing a Real Madrid zipped sweatshirt over my dress. After I had slightly recovered from the shock of what Gerard said in the interview, I composed myself and finished my conversation with him and the other footballers on my schedule for the afternoon. I hated him if he was talking about me, and I hated him if he was talking about another woman.

            “I have never in my life walked away from an interview like that. They’re going to assign me to stupid stories again, and it’s all his fault I’m in all of this trouble right now anyway,” I continued, crossing my arms, “How could he do this? I mean, he knows that—”

            “He did it because he loves you, Leah,” Interrupted Cesc, sitting next to me, as if what he just said wasn’t a big deal. “I’m not sure how else to explain it to you. He only does things this stupid when he’s around someone he loves, so that would be you or me. And it doesn’t bother me that he loves you. I can settle on being second in his life. Between the two of us, he has been in love with you since forever ago when you were helping him learn English in Manchester and has never gotten over you, and he’s going to kill me when he finds out that I told you this.”

            “Wait, be serious right now,” I said.

            “I’m being as serious as I can be, Leah. I don’t know, perhaps you don’t understand all of his obvious vibes, but I know my best friend and he is in love with you pretty hard. I don’t know what’s going on between you and pretty Portuguese boy, but just know that even if Gerard doesn’t directly tell you, he does love you a lot.”

            I didn’t’ want to believe him. “I mean, he didn’t say my name or anything, but who else does he call  _nena_  like that?”

            Denial is the first step of well, denial.

            “ _Guapa_ , he compared you to a million  _paletas_. You don’t understand how serious that is, Leah. One of Gerard’s most favorite things in the entire world are those, especially the ones that come in the plastic that you push up like this,” He moved his hands, “The ones you get at the  _frutos secos_  store. Have you looked in his freezer? That’s about all that’s in there.”

            “I like that kind too—you know,” I could see Gerard’s tall frame approaching the car in the distance, “It’s really hard to be mad at him. I want to be mad at him so badly, but I can’t. It’s a really strange feeling. He knows how complicated everything is right now. He is one of not even a handful of people who knows what’s going on with Cristiano.”

            “Be nice to him, please.”

            “I will try.” I crossed my arms because Gerard was now in earshot of our conversation. I could at least pretend to be mad.

            “Geri, what took you so long?” Said Cesc, “We’ve been waiting for you. I’m hungry.”

            “Shut up Cesc,” Replied Gerard, looking perfect as ever in the same outfit he briefly had on for the interview. They were communicating without speaking and then he said, “Can I talk to Leah for a second?”

            “And where am I supposed to go? You’re just going to use the hood of my car?”

            “Leah can we talk?” He said, ignoring everything that Cesc had said, “We can go on a walk and leave him. I don’t think I want to look at Cesc anymore today. I’ve seen far too much of him for a twenty-four hour period.”

            “Please. You know that every second you spend with me is enjoyable, especially the times when I’m completely _desnudo_. I decided not to tell her that you enjoyed cuddling with me last night. And I know that you check me out every time—”

            “You wish,” He rolled his eyes, “Leah, I apologize. We have the collective maturity of a nine year old when we’re together. Can we take a  _paseo_  please? Even if you’re wearing that awful shirt right now.”

            I looked at him, and then looked at Cesc who gave me the ‘go on’ look. I exhaled, “Fine.”

            Gerard gave me a hand to help me off the car.

            “ _Ciao_  Cesc,” I said, giving him two kisses.

            “ _Hasta luego,_ and be nice to him,” He said, switching to his highly accented English.

            “I’ll try. I understand how important your  _novio_ is to you, so I’ll try not to kill him.”

            I walked away with Gerard and we didn’t say anything at all for the first few minutes. We were walking through the back of the stadium where the players kept their cars towards a walking exit to, Les Corts, the neighborhood surrounding Camp Nou. We walked out and it was surprisingly quiet, especially after a game. I suppose that I didn’t realize how late it was. We walked in silence until he finally decided to speak.

            “Leah, I’m really sorry for the interview. I just didn’t know any other way to let you know that—“He paused, “I don’t know, I’m not being very articulate right now.”

            I knew what he was trying to tell me, and I knew that I definitely couldn’t help him out or say anything back. I felt a sick feeling in my stomach and blamed it on walking through the gates out into Les Corts, which apart from the stadium was a very cute area with little restaurants and bakeries (and if you turned the wrong direction, a very large mall where I had spent plenty of money while studying abroad).

            “We really need to talk, Leah, and I know the perfect place,” He said, “I know that you probably hate me right now, and that’s perfectly understandable, and I should probably stop talking now.”

            “No, you can keep talking,” I said quietly. I enjoyed the sound of his voice, his seemingly endless chatting. He was always extremely talkative around me although he seemed quite quiet to the public eye.

            “Okay.  _Mira_ , before I messed up and was stupid and made you leave the interview today I had planned out an evening for us, so I wanted you to enjoy some of it anyway, and I can take you to your hotel right afterward. You can take it and go if you want, because I understand if you don’t want to look at me right now.” His voice was quiet, and not as happy and friendly as it usually was.

            I hated to hear him sound so miserable.

            And I couldn’t stay mad at him for more than a few hours.

            Why was he trying to get rid of me so quickly?

            “I’m here for one more day. Today is Wednesday, so until tomorrow night, remember?”

            “But I promised you only twenty-four hours though,  _nena_.”

            That stupid agreement, he was holding onto it. I was so stupid.

            “Right.”

            I walked along with him, ignoring the people that noticed us pass by. It was a defense mechanism I learned in Madrid. People always look at you, for whatever reason, and you quickly get over it. If I only had a few hours left, it would be perfectly ok to hold his hand, wouldn’t it? I quickly grabbed his fingers, saying nothing again, and continued to walk with him down the sidewalk passing by people having tapas in tiny bars.

            “ _Estamos aquí_ ,” He said, stopping in front of an adorable ice cream shop with plenty of Barça paraphernalia I could see through the window.

            “Ice cream?” I said, excited because I hadn’t eaten much today, “Or are we getting  _paletas_? What flavor would you consider me? I like the orange or yellow ones personally.”

            “I should have never said that,” He said, opening the door for me, “ _Hola!_ ” He said to the teenager sitting behind the counter, reading a book.

            “ _Primo!_  How are you. Who is this with you?”

            “This is Leah, and Leah this is my little cousin Joaquím.”

            “You bought out my father’s store for an hour to impress a girl? Are you serious?” He said, switching to Catalán, “And she looks American. Why won’t you ever take me where you find your women, cousin?”

            “She probably understood everything you just said. You’re so rude.”

            “Oh, I’m so sorry. It was nice meeting you.”

            I laughed a little. “It’s fine,” I said, squeezing Gerard’s hand tightly.

            “Where’s Cesc? He’s always with you.”

            “He’s obviously not here right now, and where is Blanca or someone other than you? I didn’t realize my very rude _primito_  would be here and try to mess up my very nice evening.”

            “It’s fine, stop freaking out,” I said, seeing him turn a little red.

            “I had it all planned out, Leah. Before I was stupid and ruined your interview, I got my cousin who owns the shop to specially make Kinder Bueno ice cream because I know that you really like those.”

            I heard the words Kinder and Bueno and grew extremely excited by the millisecond.

            “And then we would sit over there and eat it and chat and everything would be perfect,” He said as I noticed a nicely decorated table with two bottles of Cocacola, and pink and yellow roses.

            And then I had a flashback.

            “Geri, this is exactly like the date in Manchester when we were in the ice cream shop and had the cones with the Kinder Buenos on the inside instead of a Flake and you gave me that absolutely gorgeous key necklace. We were the only people in the shop, and had two bottles of Coke and sat there until it closed.”

            I liked wearing the necklace, and always told Cristiano it was something old that I had forever, which was possibly true. I remember Gerard stumbling, nervously telling me that I was the key that finally opened his heart and that was why he wanted me to have the necklace. I probably rolled my eyes, as I usually did, and then gave him a kiss and went to his place, falling asleep in his arms and showing up late to class the next day.

            “I tried. I had to end our twenty-four hours on a fun note, and I definitely thought that I blew it earlier today. I had to get you some ice cream, proper European coke, and this.”

            He pulled a box from his pocket and put it into my hands. “Open it,” He continued.

            I unwrapped the ribbon to find another key covered in diamonds on a chain. I saw them sparkle in the light.

            “ _Dios mío_ , you didn’t need to Gerard, I can’t,” I said, admiring how beautiful the necklace was.

            “You can. Take it.”

            “Thank you so much.”

            “It’s not much,  _es qué_ , you still have the key, it’s just if you want to use it or not.”

            In this moment I wanted to.

            I moved in to kiss him, in the shop, taking in every element of him from how I stood on my toes to reach his lips to the way he held my hips and the smell of his cologne against his shirt. I understood the million  _paletas_  feeling now. He was a zillion Kinder Buenos in a tall, neatly dressed, slightly bearded package.

            “Can we extend the twenty-four hours to tomorrow?”

            “That’s fine with me.”

            “I have to use my key while the lock is with me.”

            “What?”

            “Nothing.”

            “Are you ready for ice cream yet? I’m hungry.”

            “You’re always hungry.”

            “Yeah, yeah, I know, but come on, Leah. We’ve only got all night.”

* * *

        

            I almost ruined everything.

            I had her here, in my arms, in my city, away from Madrid and her new boyfriend, everything that I wanted and I sat there and stupidly told her that I loved her in the middle of her interview. I didn’t think that she would speak to me at all after that or want to finish the interview, but she came back and didn’t give me the death stare that I expected. Instead she gave me a slight smile, and tried her best to give me the limited amount of eye contact the rest of our session. I went back into the locker room feeling awful, waiting for Cesc to finish talking so I could vent to him. I needed to be mentally ready for the game. It was important, and people had been questioning whether I deserved to start at this point in the season anyway. I suppose I’m slightly out of shape from sulking and eating a lot of midnight snacks since I haven’t been sleeping well. I didn’t even expect to start today until Pep released the starting line up this morning, and my name was on it. I had plenty to prove and it didn’t start off too well.

            Now everything was how I wanted it to be.

            I had convinced Cesc that he really didn’t need to come over tonight, and that his girlfriend (or whatever she was) probably missed him. Leah seemed to be impressed with the ice cream date, and agreed to come to my place again. We stopped by her hotel for her to pick up some comfortable clothes, and now she was standing against the counter in my kitchen wearing only her underwear and a long sleeved Real Madrid t-shirt. I hated even the look at that crest because it immediately made me think of him.

            “You know those colors aren’t allowed in my house,” I said, between taking a sip of sparkling wine I had recently convinced my mother to give me from her collection.

            “What are you going to do about it then?” She said.

            “Take it off?” I said, feeling very forward.

            “I mean, I guess I could wear one of yours, but I’ve been a Real fan for a long time.”

            “But you know that Barça is so much better,  _nena_.  _Más que un club_.”

            “Stop it, you’re silly. I’m not changing my soccer allegiance because of you, even if I really, really like you Geri.”

            Really like.

            Really, really like?

            Come on Leah, and just say it for me, please.

            “What if I do this?” I went over to her, being overly dramatic, running my hand across the inner part of her thigh, “And then I do this.”

            I leaned over to kiss her. It was one of those long, slow, and slightly messy kisses that I felt like I was famous for. Even Cesc liked to comment on how awkward my kisses seemed. He couldn’t attribute it to my height over most of the women I’d been with, or if it was just I wasn’t nearly as ‘skilled’ as he is. I started laughing a little at the thought of my best friend and Leah looked at me strangely.

            “What is it now?” She said, taking my hands.

            “Nothing, it’s just I thought about something Cesc said.”

            “Your  _novio_?”

            “Yes, my  _novio_ , Leah. What do you think I do with him anyway?”

            “I don’t know, this?” She kissed me, “But like you guys do it a little more intense than that. That’s what you’re really doing when he says you’re playing Super Nintendo.”

            “You’re awful. I see him naked every day but absolutely never touch him, I’ve known everywhere Cesc has been.”

            “I don’t mind sharing,” She said, laughing, “Call him over now, tell your  _novio_  you’re kissing me now instead of him. Make him jealous.”

            “What you don’t understand is that if I call him he will come, even if I’m just kidding,” Cesc really did spend a lot of time at my house. I considered making him pay some of my bills, at least for food because he always showed up hungry, “But really, you need to take that shirt off,  _nena_.” I slipped my fingers under the bottom of her shirt, tugging at the material.

            “Only for you,” She said.

            “Okay. Off now,” I said, taking her shirt off her body and throwing it onto the ground, “Where that thing belongs.”

            “Don’t say that about my Real shirt, Gerard, it’s very nice.”

            “I like seeing you in the  _blaugrana_  better though,  _nena_. Besides you’re breaking so many of our rules right now.”

            “What rules? Do you count as me wearing something from Barcelona?”

            I liked where this was heading.

            “Oh?” I said, realizing what she was hinting at.

            As much as I was getting used to this, I had to remind myself that this was temporary. At the same time, I needed to live in the moment. Get over that she’s leaving you and pretend that this is forever. Enjoy her laugh, her smile, how she whines a little too much, and the way her body seems to perfectly fit between your arms.

            “Can you beat what we did yesterday?” She asked.

            “I don’t know. I didn’t know it was possible for you to beg me for anything.”

            “What are you talking about?” She said, crossing her arms.

            “ _Ayy, Dios mío, dame más_ ,” I said, mocking her and speaking in a high-pitched voice, “Geri, I’m so frustrated, I need you now.”

            “I don’t sound like that, and you know it.”

            “But you do. Show me something different,  _nena_.”

            I spent the entire night in bed with Leah, spending half of the time just holding her close and enjoying having her in my arms again. Being with her was great, of course, but I don’t think that anything could beat what we had emotionally and physically the night before. Each minute I had with her, even when she was sleeping against my body, was one less that I had. It frustrated me so much that I didn’t fight harder for her to begin with. She was leaving in a few hours. I would drop her off at the airport again and that would be it. She would probably go back home to Cristiano, and that was it, leaving me here to continue through trying to find a replacement for her.

            The problem was that in these three years she had found someone to ‘replace’ me and I never did. I loved her so much, I really, really did and I didn’t want to let her go.

            I needed to find a way to make sure that this goodbye didn’t last as long as the previous one, but I needed to somehow finally get the answer from her, did she still love me?

            I decided that I would try to fall asleep instead of analyzing every possible reason why Leah should go home to Madrid and that we shouldn’t be together.

            But in my head, I had every possible reason why we shouldn’t be apart.

            I hated this so much yet needed to figure something out before it was too late.


	24. Chapter 24

_Love is back in the air? Cristiano Ronaldo and Leah Hamilton-Fox were pictured having dinner in Madrid for the first time in weeks._

_The two were spotted in the upscale Tokio 24. They were seated privately, but other patrons saw the couple enter and exit the restaurant together._

_“They looked very happy,” Said one source, “They were smiling, holding hands, and laughing as they left the restaurant.”  
_

_For the past few weeks, we have seen the two photographed separately. Hamilton-Fox spent some time in Barcelona last week, and rumors have it that she was spending some time with FC Barcelona star Gerard Piqué. Sources say that their relationship is nothing but friendly, but others believe that pictures do not lie. They are rumored to have a history from Piqué’s days at Manchester United.  
_

_Ronaldo and his long time girlfriend haven’t been seen together much recently, but the two were photographed many times this week throughout the city…_

I held the magazine in my hands while I drank a  _café con leche_  at the little bakery in the neighborhood where I grew up. Sometimes I liked to come here and drag Cesc along for nostalgic purposes. It was exactly the same way I remembered it when I was eight. There’s something about going to a place that holds so many memories. My partner in crime was staring at the millions of pastries behind the glass counter in the front, trying to decide which sweets he wanted. I told him to get me a slice of chocolate cake (the biggest one behind the glass).

            Cesc was finally heading back to our table with a silly grin on his face, as usual. He sad down, and changed his expression when he saw what I was reading.

            “You never read gossip magazines,” He said sitting down, “Why did you pick that up?”

            “Because of this,” I handed him the magazine with the two-page article about Leah.

            “That’s a picture of you,” He said.

            “It is, but there are more pictures of them.”

            “Is this new?”

            “Yeah, it says those are new pictures.”

            “Oh. Wow. Wasn’t she? Didn’t she?” He couldn’t find the words

            If Cesc couldn’t understand what was going on, I sure couldn’t either.

            Leah was just here, she was just spending the night in my place and now here she was back with  _him_. The pictures were everywhere to prove that she was happily back to her sense of normalcy.

            “Geri, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to say.” Cesc was definitely not a man of few words.

            “Yeah, I should have known it was coming anyway,” I said quietly as the waitress brought our sweets to the table.

            “I don’t know, I wouldn’t be able to predict that at all. The way she looked at you and everything when she was here. I just knew that she loved you again. I just don’t even know. Have you talked to her?”

            “No.”

            “Why? Gerard, you’re so awful with women. If you love Leah as much as you say that you do you need to talk to her again and give her a final deal. Be like, look, I can’t deal with this emotional bullshit anymore. Either you want to be with me or with him, just let me know.”

            “It’s not that easy, Cesc.”

            “But it is, Geri. You’ve been chasing her for three years. She’s with him, and there’s the proof. She’s playing you so badly. I’m only telling you like this because you’re my best friend and I hate to see you hurt so much.”

            “I can’t just call her and ask her that.”

            “You definitely can. She’s back with him, and you’re sitting here moping instead of enjoying yourself. You could go outside on the street and take five girls home if you wanted to.”

            “Just because you’re dating whatever her name is right now doesn’t mean you know everything about relationships.”

            “We are not having this argument right now. This has nothing to do with me and having a girlfriend, but everything to do with you and Leah and how she’s treated you like shit since when she left you and you can’t get that through your thick head.”

            There’s nothing like someone telling you every ounce of the truth when you don’t want to hear it.

            “Besides,” He continued, “I’ve set you up on a date with Claudia Martín anyway.”

            “From when we were little, Claudia? Cesc, what are you doing?”

            “She’s hot now. Have you seen her recently?”

            “Sometimes I run into her, yes, but this is all too much for me. One second you’re telling me to move on from Leah, and in the next you’ve set me up on a date? With Claudia when we were little? I might as well go on a date with you.”

            “You’re on a date with me right now, Geri. Anyway, I’m helping you move on, that’s all I’m trying to do,” Said Cesc, finally eating some of his cake, “But first I’m making sure that you call Leah. You need to see what she’s up to.”

            “I know what she’s up to, it’s in the papers.”

            “Yeah, but she hasn’t told you anything which is just absolutely terrible. I don’t know, Geri, but you better go on this date with Claudia Martín. I can make it a double. I know that you love spending time with me anyway.”

            “No thanks,” I took another piece of his cake, “If I have to go on a date, it’s not going to involve you.”

            “Please, you know that you wish that you could have more of this than you already do,” He gave me an awful trying too hard to be seductive face, “And please go on the date with Claudia. She’s our friend and absolutely gorgeous. Besides, I think that if you hook up with someone you’ll feel a million times better. You’re into aesthetics, right?”

            “That’s a big word for you,” I said, “So you’re suggesting I just call Leah and ask her why she decided to stay with him?”

            “Yes. Geri, that’s what you need to do. Or, if you don’t want to talk to her, go on your date I have waiting for you. I can make it tonight if you want.”

            “I can’t tonight, it’s too soon. I feel like I need to talk to Leah.”

            “I really think that you should, and you should also buy me another slice of cake, rude. If you wanted strawberry you should have said so.” He took my slice of cake and put it in front of him, “We’re not even supposed to be eating this right now.”

            “I’ve gotten over feeling guilty about things I’m not supposed to be doing,” I said before taking a sip of coffee.

            I also decided that I would call Leah as soon as I got home, but I would need to think everything through before I called her. It would be harder to let someone go that I loved so much than anything else I’ve had to do before.

* * *

 

            I woke up stretched out in the middle of the bed, our bed, my place in the  _Palacio_  where I hadn’t slept for weeks. Nothing exciting happened in that way, but I was happy to be back to some sense of normalcy.

I wasn’t really sure of what normal was, but I had finally talked to Cristiano again. In the back of my mind was Gerard and Barcelona and everything that happened in those very quick, short days. I couldn’t keep thinking about him. This couldn’t be like last time when I left and went back to New York and thought about him every minute of the day. I kept our picture framed in my desk and gazed at it between my books and papers for class.

I hadn’t even told many of my friends about my unofficial boyfriend because I had a theory that it would cause everything to fall apart. I went back to being the bookish, single girl too occupied with her studies instead of learning how to let a few things go as I learned to do while studying abroad. It was like I was only allowed to have fun for one year of my life. When I stepped through customs in the states again, everything was done. Finished.

I’ve left out a lot of details, haven’t I? You’re probably wondering how in the world I’m waking up at the  _Palacio_ after not speaking to Cristiano for weeks. Why am I back here? It’s a very long story.

The day after I got back to Madrid, I got a simple message from Cristiano asking if we could meet up and talk. I had been avoiding him like the plague, but today, after processing everything and deciding that I actually missed him, I gave in. I was also concerned to death about Connor, and missed the little guy and his very posh British accent. Maricarmen had seen him and told me he asked if I was coming home any time soon. He also had a drawing for me, provided with commentary from Maricarmen to explain what the scribbles meant.

I didn’t know what to say to him when we met.

There were so many conflicting feelings that I had inside, and I was still upset with him. I suppose that I needed to let him talk at this point.

When I saw him sitting in the lounge at Tokio 24 (which he had seemingly bought out for just the two of us to talk), I couldn’t believe how stunning he looked, but then again I could. He was sitting at a table for two, in a perfectly tailored black suit and was anxiously looking at his phone when I walked in. I suppose I was a little late, and it was absolutely possible for me to not show up after not speaking to him for a few weeks. I looked pretty good myself too. I wore an off the shoulder light blue dress I picked up in Barcelona.

“Leah,” He said, getting up from the table.

When we got close to each other, we awkwardly looked one another in the eyes without speaking again. No kisses, no anything, just looking. I thought I was going to break down from just looking into the dark brown eyes.

“Hey,” Was all I could say.

“I missed you. Here, sit down,” He pulled the chair out for me to sit down. I put my napkin in my lap and crossed my legs. I was excited to see the bottle of sparkling wine on the table. I was going to need plenty of it to get through tonight. I would be drinking it alone because Cristiano didn’t drink—so perhaps I wouldn’t want to look like an alcoholic tonight.

“Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” Lies. I hadn’t eaten all day today because I was nervous about seeing him.

“Before anything, I have to tell you something—” He started, first looking away, and then making clear, direct eye contact with me, “Leah, I am so sorry for what I did, and I really mean it. I’ve been thinking about all my feelings since you left, and I’ve realized that I do really love you. It’s been really hard without you. I know now that I need you, and that I’ve probably ruined what I have—I had just because I was jealous. I’m really, really sorry and I love you.”

You had every right to be jealous and suspicious, and other –ous words because basically everything you thought that was going on is true.

 _Joder_.

I felt my phone buzzing in my clutch in my lap, but ignored it because I was absorbing everything that Cristiano just said. It was probably Maricarmen anyway. She told me she thought I wasn’t going to show up to meet Cristiano. She was wrong.

First, he apologized. Second, he analyzed his feelings and decided that he really missed me. Third, he apologized again, and admitted that he is not superhuman and gets jealous too. All words that I’ve been wanting to hear. Lastly, he still loves me.

I’d find it hard to love someone who went away to Barcelona and hooked up with her old boyfriend because she didn’t have the nerve to make up with the current one sitting across the table from her in a custom made suit.

I suppose I more than hooked up, I full on slept with another guy and considered telling him that I loved him, but didn’t because it felt wrong regardless of how good he made me feel.

“Cris—I—” No sentence coherence, “I—don’t know what to say. I mean, I still love you too.”

I did still love him.

I realized that in Barcelona when I was concerned about what he was doing and how he was feeling while we were apart. And now, while I was sitting with him, I wondered what Gerard was up to. He was probably hanging out with Cesc, as usual, doing guy stuff, not worried about me sitting here with Cristiano. I would keep telling myself that. We did agree to ending everything then, and I would move on and work on fixing what I had in Madrid.

Easier in theory than in reality.

“Are you ready to come back?” Continued Cristiano, taking a sip of water.

“What do you mean?”

“Come back home, to the house. It’s so empty. I sent Connor with my mother for a little. It’s just me and the dog.”

“My  _gordi_. How is he?” I missed Connor so much with his little curls all over his head and his ability to make my heart melt in about five seconds.

“ _Mira_ ,” He pulled out his phone to show a picture of Connor wearing a backwards red hat, a beach t-shirt and shorts, and mini Crocs in the sand, “He’s at the beach right now in Portugal having a good time. I know it’s hard with him with the entire language thing, but he’s a tough little guy. He asks for you when I speak to him.”

“He does?”

“Yeah. I’ve wanted to tell you too that his mother keeps trying to contact me because she misses him. I don’t want her to see him at all.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Connor hasn’t even asked for her in weeks. I don’t want him to be miserable again. He’s getting better every day.”

“I’ve missed you, and the  _niño_ , and everything Cristiano, but it just feels like a lot.”

“Like you don’t want to come back?”

“I do. It’s just, I don’t know, we need to just figure more things out. I feel really overwhelmed by a lot of things right now, like you probably saw my awful interviews from Barcelona the other night—I just need to get my life together, but I would really like to be at the  _palacio_.”

“Take your time, you’re always welcome to come home when you want to.”

            I smiled for the first time tonight.

            I suppose that I did belong at the  _palacio_  with Cristiano, my dog, Connor, the huge pool, all of my shoes, and everything. I just didn’t know if it was too soon to be this close to Cristiano again. Not too many days ago I was tangled between the sheets with Gerard, whispering into his ears and waking up beside him.

Now I was sitting across from Cristiano, happy to have the proposal to return to what I had most recently understood as ‘normalcy.’

If I never felt overwhelmed, this was the moment.

“Can you tell me why you said the words though?”

“I said them because—“ He exhaled, “I see the way you look at  _him_. There’s this emotion in your eyes that I never have seen with you before. It’s something there that I just can’t describe, but I saw it when you were together in Madrid, and even when you had that interview the other night. I just have to live with the fact that I will always be jealous, but it’s something I can work on if it means I can be with you, Leah. I let my frustration get in the way and ruin everything, and that was stupid. I promise to work on it and will never call you anything like that again.”

So you just want to take my heart and melt it quickly, don’t you? I felt my phone continue to buzz through my purse. If it was someone from work, I was absolutely going to kill them. Then again, after my horrible interview, they could be calling at this hour to fire me. Every interview I had after Gerard’s was absolute shit, and yes that’s the only word appropriate to describe how they were. One of the girls on my production staff even sent me flowers and my favorite chocolate with a note that said, ‘Leah, just wanted to tell you you’re awesome <3.’ Everyone could tell something was up, and I suppose my nationally covered relationship drama was to blame.

I ignored it again, trying to process everything Cristiano was saying. I suppose I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to come back home and for us to try to be together again. The bigger question was what did I want? Was I going to go home with Cristiano and end up whispering someone else’s name in his ear, thinking of  _him_  in Barcelona while I lived a life of luxury in Madrid, driving around my Porsche and going on ridiculous holidays whenever I wanted?

All of this ‘time off’ was when I was supposed to be soul searching and figuring out my biggest life question. Did I, Leah Hamilton-Fox, love Cristiano Ronaldo, beautiful, charming football player sitting across from me trying to figure out what was running through my head.

“Cristiano, I’ve missed you a ton,” I finally said, “And I want to come back home.”

I said it.

It was home to me, or as much of a home as I had in Spain. Since I’ve been back, I had been living with Cristiano for quite some time. I never thought I’d be the type to move in before marrying someone, but it made the most sense. I spent most of my nights at Cristiano’s anyway, so my apartment became my office, my personal space to think.

“You’re coming back for real?” His smile was gigantic. It was the same one Connor gave me when he asked for his goodnight story and  _besos_.

I nodded my head and smiled.

“Okay. Leah, can I?” He got up and walked over to where I was, taking my hands to pull me up and look into my eyes, “I promise not to ever hurt you like that again. I love you so much.”

He kissed me, and I allowed him to.

It was one of those like I’m kissing you for the first time again kisses, where your feelings are all over the place, but you’re so happy that it finally happened.

Something didn’t feel right though.

But everything felt right, because I was back to where I was supposed to be.

I was going to resist letting the feelings overwhelm me this time, but it was almost impossible not to let my eyes begin to turn red and the tears form, the burning as they were closed.

Cristiano looked at me, slightly confused, worried that he did something wrong. “ _Coraçao_ , are you okay?”

“I’m fine,  _es sólo que, te amo_ ,” I said, wiping my eye with the back of my hand, “ _No te preocupes._ I missed you, and I’m happy to be back. You know how I am.”

Partially true.

I was extremely happy to be back, but something still felt missing.

I knew exactly where that something was.

If I was going to make it work, I knew that in this moment, upon deciding to stay and try again in Madrid,  I was saying goodbye to my blue-eyed boy in Barcelona forever.

 


End file.
